


A Fine Specimen

by Romiress



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Superman, Bruce Wayne has the Emotional IQ of a Rock, Emotional Constipation, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Identity Issues, M/M, Mutual Pining, No Set Continuity, Oblivious Bruce Wayne, Slave Trade, Slow Burn, mentions of noncon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:16:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 36,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21835810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Romiress/pseuds/Romiress
Summary: People are going missing in Gotham, and that's absolutely part of Batman's area of expertise.When it turns out those people are being smuggled through an intergalactic slavery ring and passed off as an alien race known as Kryptonians? That's less his territory.---Written for theSuperBat Reverse Bang, withartby @Santheum.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 89
Kudos: 308
Collections: Superbat Reverse Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Santheum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Santheum/gifts).



Bruce's vantage point on the roof gives him a clear view of everything going on down below, but it doesn't give him the answers that he seeks. He knows the police have been there for hours, going through the early stages of a missing persons investigation, and that a half hour ago the majority of them left.

But no amount of observation will tell him why Gordon is still there, staying behind long after the rest of the police have left. To pass on his condolences to the parents? To gather additional information?

Bruce lets out an immense sigh of relief when Gordon finally emerges from the house's front door. His hands are in his pockets as he surveys the street, double-checking for danger before heading down towards his car.

Dropping down to the street, Bruce approaches with as much dignity as his stiff legs will allow. He's been sitting on the roof for an hour, and the whole time he had assumed Gordon would be out at any moment.

"Gordon."

Gordon no longer spooks like he once did. The years of working together have made him immune to Bruce's tendency to pop out of nowhere without any warning.

"Batman," Gordon says, turning to look over his shoulder as he pulls out a cigarette. Gordon's been trying to quit smoking for years, but right then he's fishing a cigarette out of the inside pocket of his jacket. "Please tell me you have _something_ for the parents."

"I don't," Bruce says. No point playing coy. Not with Gordon. Not with seven missing people in Gotham. "Green Arrow said he'd noticed a larger than usual number of disappearances in Star City. He doesn't work as closely with the police as I do, so he didn't have access to the files. I told him what to look for, and he's looking into it."

"I'm not sure which option is worse," Gordon says, leaning heavily against his cruiser and taking a deep drag. "If it's just Gotham, it's just our standard brand of Gotham crazy. If it's elsewhere..."

"Then we're dealing with something much bigger."

Gordon pauses for a moment, his eyes focusing on something past Bruce's back, and Bruce turns his head slightly, spotting the telltale green glow of a Lantern up in the sky.

"I'll let you know if I find anything," Bruce says. "If it helps them to know, you can tell the parents I'm looking into it."

"I'll tell them," Gordon says, "because right now, the hope you'll find them is the only thing we've got."

He leaves Gordon behind then. His plan is to grapple up to the roof but Hal intercepts him, placing a construct platform in front of him for Bruce to step onto. Bruce does, despite his hesitance, and lets Hal lift him up, setting him down on the roof before dropping down to join him there, the glow of his ring fading.

"This had better be important," Bruce growls.

"Why?" Hal asks, seeming genuinely confused by the fact that Bruce is busy. "Listen, whatever you have going on in Gotham, it's not going to be as important as hearing me out."

"I have seven missing people in Gotham," Bruce says. "Is what you're going to say more important then getting them home to their families?"

"It's not more important," Hal says, obviously doing what he can to keep his tone level. Bruce isn't sure why, considering he's fought with Hal plenty of times before, and he makes note of it for later. "It's the same level of importance," Hal adds. "The two are probably connected."

Bruce isn't sure if he should be happy to have a lead on a case that has resisted all of his efforts to crack it, or be irritated that whatever the lead is, it's probably going to be in _space._

Bruce hates space. He hates leaving Gotham in general, but space is particularly bad, probably due to it's overpowering desire to kill him at the first opportunity. He loves using gear and gadgets to help him while he does his work, but the idea of having to rely on that gear to keep him from suffocating in the cold vacuum of space is deeply unpleasant.

"I'm listening," Bruce says.

"I mean, I'd hope you would be," Hal says, planting his hands on his hips. "We've been working on this for months."

"Get to the point, Lantern. I don't have time to stand around talking shop."

"They want to brief you on Oa—"

"No. Brief me here."

"This is official Lantern business, Bats. This is more than just me."

"I'm not leaving Gotham unattended to go off and deal with _your_ bosses. Explain it here."

Hal makes an exasperated sigh, but finally does explain, folding his arms across his chest.

"I was going to ask how much you know about slavery throughout the universe, but I'm going to just go straight ahead and assume that the answer is _absolutely nothing."_

It's not an unfair assumption, so Bruce stays quiet.

"What matters is that it exists, the Lanterns obviously don't like it, and it's a big problem. On a large scale, you often see slavers rolling into less developed planets, gathering up anyone who can work, and then shipping them off. Finding victims like that and getting them back to their home planet is a big part of my job as a Lantern, but it's often easier said than done. Lots of the people being made into slaves don't yet have space travel, so they can't explain where they're from. A lot of the time we just straight up have to resettle them on new planets."

"I'm not sure how any of this is relevant to Gotham."

"I'm getting to that. So what I just talked about is called... well, there's a bunch of terms for it, but consider it bulk slavery or group slavery. Involves a lot of people, it tends to be companies buying workers. Sometimes kings, but—"

"I get it."

"So the flip side of that is personal slavery. Having one slave to serve a single person. Might be as an assistant, or a..." Hal actually _goes red,_ embarrassed to discuss it.

"A sex slave, Hal. We're adults here. Again, this is a lot of talking about things which don't affect Gotham."

"They do, though," Hal says. "That's the point. So the most valuable personal slaves are this one species called Kryptonians. When exposed to yellow sunlight, they're fast, strong, they can fly, shoot lasers from their eyes... I mean, they're the whole package. Plus, they're all basically perpetually fit, _extremely_ attractive..."

"Are you getting to the point, or are you trying to sell me one?"

"Do you know what a Kryptonian looks like, Batman?" Hal says, but he doesn't even pause to let Bruce answer. "They look human. They look _exactly_ like a human."

Bruce can see what's coming even before Hal says it. He can see the writing on the wall, can suddenly understand why the sole unifying factor between all seven disappearances was that every single one of them was an attractive young man or woman who was physically fit.

"We think that a group has been picking people who fit the type off Earth and passing them off as Kryptonians. While they wouldn't stack up exactly, any new Kryptonian slave would have a control collar on, keeping them from bringing their power to bear on the person who just bought them. By the time anyone removed the collar and found out the truth, the seller would be long gone."

Bruce resists the urge to press his hands to his face until it hurts. The implications are awful: that at _least_ seven humans are adrift in the galaxy, being sold as slaves. For... for something as petty as a _cost saving measure._

"It's easier for them to steal humans and risk the buyer finding out than it is to just go to Krypton, I'm guessing?"

"There isn't a Krypton anymore," Hal says. "Krypton blew up thirty years ago, so there's maybe two hundred actual Kryptonians left. That's one of the reasons they're so rare and valuable."

Bruce makes an exasperated noise. The whole thing is disgusting. The very _idea_ of it.

"So they've already enslaved all the remaining Kryptonians, and now they need some new product."

"Not quite," Hal says. "There's a pack of free ones flying around the galaxy rescuing their own kind, but they're just a drop in the bucket. Most of them are slaves to the richest and most powerful people in the galaxy. If that wasn't bad enough, now those people are going to be buying humans, and I _really_ don't want to know what's going to happen to the fakes when their owners find out they've been scammed.

Which leads them to the inevitable point of the whole conversation.

"...So what do you want me to do?"


	2. Chapter 2

Bruce doesn't like any part of the situation, but his options are severely limited. The Lantern's plan for him had been short, direct, and contained almost no margin of error.

Go to the drop point. Meet the seller. Acquire the goods (through whatever means he saw fit). Call for backup if needed. Find more information.

Simple, clear directives for a muddled, unclear mess of a mission. Bruce wishes the whole thing could have waited. If there'd been another few weeks he could have had a ship of his own, rather than borrowing one from one of the Lanterns. If there'd been more time, he could have worked up a more sophisticated plan, one that covered his bases and ensured he wasn't going to get killed his first time interacting with alien life.

Well, his first time interacting with alien life on _their_ home turf. He's interacted with J'onn plenty, and he's met a few non-Earth Lanterns here and there. But meeting Kilowog in Metropolis and walking through the belly of a massive alien space station are two very different experiences.

For one, the former provides a lot more opportunities for backup.

Bruce does what he can to keep his eyes forward. He's supposed to be a dignified member of the universe's elite, and staring at every alien that walks by isn't going to give anyone that sort of impression. The character he's playing—the Lanterns have told him his supposed planet of birth and a ton of other details to help his story—would have seen them all before. He wouldn't be giving thought to the fact that so many of the aliens on this station are bipedal. He wouldn't be comparing every alien he passes with the human standard. He wouldn't be looking over gills and fins and wings and thinking _why is it that way?_ the way that Bruce is.

So he keeps his eyes forward as he winds his way through the ship.

He's wearing his usual Batman costume with only a few slight modifications. Some of them are for utility—the piece over the lower part of his face will snap shut in the event it's exposed to the vacuum of space, providing at least an additional thirty seconds of oxygen—but most are simply for effect. The lenses of his suit have been set up to glow faintly with white light, lending him an otherworldly look. The only part of his body that's actually showing is the lower half of his face, which Hal's reassured him a dozen times isn't going to give it away.

"Lots of species don't look _that_ far off human," he'd insisted. "They'll probably assume the ears on your costume are covering horns or something. It happens. The point is... stick to the story."

As if Bruce didn't already know that.

He finds the part of the station he's supposed to head toward and starts to check doors. The symbols all mean things, but he's not fluent in the language, and the universal translator the Lanterns have given him doesn't handle anything written, only spoken. He knows the symbols he's looking for because he's memorized them, but it still takes him the better part of ten _very_ stressful minutes to find the right ones. He nearly knocks, then catches himself, finding the buzzer and touching it instead.

Bruce is used to feeling in control during missions. He's used to being _in charge._ But everything about the situation has him on edge. It's all unfamiliar and deeply unpleasant, and right then all he wants is for it to be over with. He wants it done. He wants things done, finished, and put to rest.

And if he never has to go off planet again, he'll be that much happier for it.

The door opens to reveal an alien. They've got three eyes and what appears to be no neck, and while they tower over Bruce they're also significantly skinnier, their limbs little more than sticks. Bruce does everything he can to hide his surprise, keeping his reactions perfectly level.

"I'm here about the product," he says. "I was told you'd be expecting me."

Considering it's the front for an international slavery ring, the building is deeply unassuming on the outside, and even less so on the inside. It looks like any other shop, only it doesn't appear to have any actual product. Back on Earth he'd be able to make assumptions about what they might be selling, but here he only knows by virtue of having been warned.

"Before we go any further," his host says, their voice raspy and soft. "You will have to wear this on your limb." With spindly fingers they retrieve a small gold-colored band. It's wider than his fist and Bruce is sure it's going to hang loosely off his arm, but he slips it on anyway.

It goes halfway up his forearm and then gets stuck in the air. It isn't touching anything, but it _feels_ like it is, practically anchored in place. When Bruce tries to pull it off, it won't come off either, and when he moves his arm the band moves with it.

It doesn't make any sense. It's acting as if it's attached to his arm, but it isn't.

"The truthkeeper will ensure that there are no secrets or lies," the alien says, and Bruce decides then and there that he's never going to work with the Lanterns ever again. "In a business such as ours, I am sure you can imagine the difficulties we face."

"Of course," Bruce says. He's going to be one of those difficulties if he has anything to say about it.

"So before I present you today's merchandise, I must ask: are you working for the Green Lanterns of Oa?"

Scratch that. Bruce is never working with _any_ Green Lantern again.

"I do not serve the Lanterns of Oa," he says immediately. It's a risk, but he's hoping that wording matters. He's already done what he can to keep his heart rate even on the off chance that the band is reading his heart-rate, but he suspects it's using some other mechanism that would work on things that don't have hearts.

Nothing happens. The band doesn't light up, or take off his arm, or sound the alarm. Bruce doesn't know if that means he's passed, or if the signal is simply discrete.

"Do you plan to steal any of the merchandise?"

"I have no intention of defrauding you in any way."

If he can walk away with the _merchandise_ without bloodshed, all the better. The situation is too precarious for him to go in guns blazing. Handling the situation is going to require tact.

"Do you have any ill intentions towards any of our other buyers?"

"I have no interest in any other buyer. I care only about the merchandise."

"Excellent," the alien announces, reaching out to remove the band. Bruce has to fight the urge to sigh with relief as the alien tucks it safely away, turning back to him with a flourish. "Please follow me."

Human auctions aren't unfamiliar to Bruce, and the scene in front of him feels very similar to those even if he's a million miles from another human. There are rows of seats for the patrons, and a stage for the people in charge to show off goods on. He's been to human auctions twice before, and both missions ended with him helping the police dismantle the smuggling ring in question. The fact that people would buy and sell _human beings_ is disgusting, but it's also familiar territory. It's something monsters do to each other. It's something he can, if not understand, at least process.

So he finds a seat among the audience of aliens and creatures that have never even heard of Earth and watches the stage.

Even if he knows what to expect, it still hurts to watch. Some of the slaves have grown resigned. They do not fight or struggle in any way as they're herded onto the stage, announced, and then sold. Others still fight though. They kick and scream and protest, and in many cases such a thing is considered a _feature._ The announcer, a bulbous four-legged creature that seems to lack bones but makes up for them with a booming voice, talks extensively about each bit of merchandise as they arrive on stage.

"This one still has plenty of fight!" he announces, sounding amused by the whole thing in a way that turns Bruce's stomach. Some slaves are described as good workers. Others are _deeply pleasurable._ Some have quit wits. Others are well trained. Two whose body configurations are so alien Bruce can't even figure out what he's looking at are described as being great for _ponfari,_ but his translator doesn't seem capable of actually explaining to him what that is.

By the time things start wrapping up, Bruce is emotionally exhausted in a way he hasn't been in a long time.

"Of course, many of you have held back on bidding," the announcer says. "Your discretion will be rewarded! We have a rare prize for sale today, and we invite anyone interested in bidding to approach the stage to inspect."

Bruce leans forward as they bring the man out on the stage.

He's human—or at the very least he looks it—but he's not one of the seven missing people from Gotham. He's completely naked, his body muscular and tanned, and he's been adorned with golden jewelry to accentuate his features. There are thin bands on his wrists and forearms, a thin chain trailing down his right arm to his wrist. A tiny strip of cloth wraps around his back, joining with an ornate gold piece that hangs just above his groin. Bruce does what he can to keep his eyes up, but it's easier said than done. The way his gold belt bows downward leads the eye whether someone's looking or not. Across his chest are a crisscross of thin gold chains with a large red stone in the center.

The whole thing is so fancy and ornate that it makes the collar around his neck that much more ugly. Every other thing on his body is intricately designed, carefully chosen to accentuate his muscles and body. There's an _aesthetic_ to it, while the collar around his neck is anything but. It's thick and clunky, taking up almost the entirety of the slave's neck, and while the collar is clearly cast in the same gold metal as the rest, there's an array of obvious buttons on the collar.

The collar is functional, and looking at the whole picture Bruce wonders if the rest of the jewelry wasn't specifically chosen in an attempt to distract from it.

But as appealing as the rest of the slave's body is intended to be, it's his face which draws Bruce's attention as he and more than half the buyers file towards the stage for another look.

His face is bare, recently shaved, with neatly combed short black hair. His cheekbones are sharp, his jaw is strong, and his eyes...

His eyes look glassy. He doesn't seem to be reacting to anyone else, doesn't seem to recognize what's happening around him. Bruce has seen enough cases like his to know he's been drugged, but he bites his tongue for the moment.

Or at least until it's his turn.

"Splendid, isn't he?" the announcer says, resting a single massive hand across the slave's shoulder. They don't even seem to react, offering no response to the touch as they stand there. Bruce is directly in their line of sight and they're still not _reacting,_ a fact that makes him feel ill.

"You've drugged him," Bruce says, and the announcer suddenly looks nervous, a fact that makes Bruce pleased. Likely, few in the room would be familiar enough with Kryptonians to even be able to _tell_ he's been drugged.

"He has a nervous disposition," the announcer says, his voice suddenly dropping low. Bruce counters by raising his volume just loud enough that those behind him in line can hear.

"You're selling a piece of merchandise whose temperament is entirely unknown to us," Bruce says. "For all we know, he could be a problem. Even a Kryptonian won't be worth it if he's going to rile up the rest of my stock."

"Can we be sure he's the real thing?" someone behind Bruce calls, apparently reacting to Bruce's own concerns. "There have been quite a few Kryptonians being sold lately, and most of them have been frauds."

"I assure you," the announcer says, raising his voice as the mood of the room swings against him, "this is an authentic Kryptonian."

"I would have to insist on a demonstration," someone from the audience says. "Otherwise, I'll assume he's a fraud like so many of the others."

"I can hardly provide a demonstration here," the announcer says. It's stupid to assume he has a human set of emotions, but he certainly _sounds_ distressed. "Kryptonians are dangerous at full power, and without proper training..."

"So he's either a fraud, or an untrained Kryptonian with a temperament so poor you had to sell him off. Considering the current state of the Kryptonian market, selling any Kryptonian right now is a foolish proposition..."

All Bruce had to do was get the ball rolling. Bringing up that the slave was drugged was the right thing to do, because it's made the vast majority of the audience lose interest. The concerns expressed have made the purchase of this particular slave to seem like a risky proposition, and with the last lot unsold people are already starting to leave.

Perfect. Fewer witnesses for whatever happens.

The announcer seems deflated, muttering to himself about authentic Kryptonian stock going for next to nothing, but starts the auction anyway. Bruce doesn't really understand the scale they're bidding at—he has no idea how the currency is valued—but he knows the best way to handle an auction. He knows when to bid and when to hold his tongue, and with so few bidders it's easy to outdo them.

Which, really, is just insulting. He's not actually going to be paying: that's all going to be handled by Lanterns. He could just drop a massive number and end it early, but that would risk raising red flags, and considering his initial concern over the slave being drugged, he's careful to avoid anyone being too suspicious. Instead, he plays to his character: a cautious buyer who isn't quite willing to pass up the chance the Kryptonian is genuine, even if he does have his concerns.

He wins the bid handily, and before the announcer's even finished calling it people are already leaving. They're not sticking around, clearing out of the building as fast as they can. Bruce stays behind, appearing eager to make his purchase, and keeps one eye on the man he's just _bought._

Which is a strange thought, even if it isn't real. The whole thing is a show, a glorified performance. He'll take him away, crack the collar off of him... and then find out the truth. If he's a human, Bruce can bring him back to Earth and return him to his family. If he's not, then the Lanterns will simply have to take charge of him, because Bruce sure as hell isn't bringing a strange alien back home.

No, that's the absolute _last_ thing he's going to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the illustration of this scene, check out the connected [art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24587905) by @Santheum.


	3. Chapter 3

Bruce doesn't fully understand the method of payment he's offering up, but it's clear to him that the aliens around him do. It's not just the announcer anymore—there are others, security and higher ups and a man who's too obviously eager for his money to be anything but the original owner of the man Bruce has just purchased.

He simply follows the Lantern's instructions, trusting that a force of intergalactic police know what they're doing when it comes to tracing payments. There are a few overly tense minutes after Bruce hands the data stick over before the cashier returns, looking pleased and informing them all that the transfer's gone through.

"I hope you'll enjoy your purchase," one of the security team says. "Should we bring it to your ship for you...?"

 _It._ Not _him._

The announcer had at least treated the slave like a person, even if that person was of a much lower social status than him. This is something else entirely, and it takes a great deal of self control to now growl at the alien with what is undeniably a weapon at his side.

"I'll handle it myself," Bruce says. "I assume you have some sort of covering prepared to keep things discreet?"

They do. They bring out what amounts to a hooded robe, pulling it around the slave without drawing any sort of response, and only once he's tucked into place does Bruce get the speech he's been expecting.

"The control collar can be handled manually using this," the announcer says, handing over a simplistic looking remote. "It will ensure that the Kryptonian's powers are kept unusable until you can trust the slave to use them."

"How long until the sedatives wear off?" Bruce asks, immediately ruffling feathers. That's fine—his persona is supposed to be brusque and to the point. He's not winning himself friends with anything but his money.

"No more than an hour," the announcer says. Bruce thinks he's desperate, but it's hard to tell. His tone of voice warbles all over the place, refusing to take a consistent tone. It'd almost be _musical_ if it wasn't so frustrating.

"We'll escort you to your ship," one of the security says. "It would be unfortunate for all of us—"

"He's not going anywhere," Bruce snaps. "He's incapable of doing anything beyond following simple orders. Watch."

He presses a hand to the slave's back, nudging him forward, and watching as he walks forward without any sort of resistance. He'd probably even come when called, a realization that turns Bruce's stomach.

"If you insist," the security guard says, stepping back to give Bruce room.

Bruce wants to be away from the too-bright, too-neat little shop. It's fake in the worst kind of way, a cheerful facade plastered over nothing but misery and suffering. How many people have passed through these doors to buy a _sapient being?_ How many lives have been ruined?

Bruce turns away, settling his hand against the flat of the slave's back as he guides him out the front door. He doesn't fight as Bruce walks him back towards the shipyard, doesn't offer even an ounce of fight or protest. Bruce has dealt with human trafficking before, but this feels fundamentally different. There was a level of _grime_ associated with human trafficking on earth. People smeared with dirt. Gear spotted with rust. Locations on the verge of falling apart. Maybe it shouldn't, but Bruce can't help but feel that sort of atmosphere was easier for him. Everything being so pristine and shiny makes it hard to draw the line, to separate the two worlds he lives in.

This is the sort of human misery that wouldn't look out of place at one of the charity galas he hosts, and the thought makes him ill.

He straps the slave into one of the ship's seats, telling him to sit as if he might actually understand he's being spoken to, and then handles leaving the station unguided. He waits until they're well away before he makes contact with the Lanterns.

To his surprise, he feels genuine relief when Hal's face pops up in screen.

"Everything go smoothly on your end?"

"You should already know," Bruce replies immediately, and Hal cracks a smile. Hal is still impartial. Hal still has his emotional distance. _He_ didn't have to crawl into the belly of the beast the way Bruce just did.

"We're waiting until our seller lands before we bust the auction house," Hal explains. "We don't want that bust tipping him off, so we're going to hit both at once. From what info we have, he has at least a few others—Kryptonian or human—that we should be able to snag. Plus however many we can pull out of the auction house and its storage."

"This is only one auction house," Bruce points out. "And only one seller."

"Of course," Hal says automatically. "There's always going to be more. But this is the first major breakthrough we've managed, and we should be celebrating that. Just because we didn't get _everyone_ doesn't mean this isn't a huge victory."

Bruce tries to focus on that, because Hal is right. It _is_ a victory. Even if they only managed to save one person...

Well, then they've made a massive difference in that one person's life.

"I'm going to look after the rescue," Bruce says. "They drugged him up before selling him for some reason, so I haven't had a chance to talk to him just yet."

"Let us know when you find out if he's a human or not," Hal says. "He probably is, but there's always the chance he really _was_ a Kryptonian they were selling off for bottom of the barrel prices..."

Bruce wraps up the call, turning his attention back to the slave. It hasn't been long, so he isn't expecting to see much change. He retrieves the collar's controls, working out how it works before disengaging the collar's security.

No matter what, he's not going to need it. If they're a human, the collar isn't doing anything anyway. If they're a Kryptonian, it's in Bruce's best interest to present himself as a friend from the very beginning. He's unclear on how much of the auction the slave will even remember, but Bruce has never been a betting man, and betting on the slave _not_ remembering seems like an awful decision.

Bruce reaches up, pulling the collar off, and then turns back to the ship's center console, placing the collar down. He wants to know how it works, and even if it's alien technology, the same basic principles should still apply. The more he can learn, the more information he can pass to the Lanterns, and the faster he can get back to Earth.

He lets the ship handle navigation as he sets course for Oa, and settles in to take apart the collar without interruption.

The mechanics of the collar are largely what he expects, the fundamentals not all that dissimilar from power dampeners he's seen on Earth. The only particularity is a faintly glowing green crystal lodged in the back of the collar. There's only a small chunk of it in the collar, but it's presence raises a number of red flags for Bruce. He'd expect a fake collar to be more cheaply made, and the one in his hands is far more high duty.

Which means it's _probably_ legitimate.

Which is the absolute _last_ thing he needs right then: an actual Kryptonian, when all he really wanted was a counterfeit one.


	4. Chapter 4

With the collar's disassembly complete, Bruce still has time to kill before they arrive at Oa. He double checks that the ship is still on course, and then goes out of his way to kill it in the way that's most comfortable to him: preparation.

He peels himself out of his suit, carefully placing each piece of his gear in order, and then gets to work cleaning it up. He wants it impeccable by the time they get to Oa, but they've still got hours until they arrive.

He's midway through cleaning the inside of his gauntlets when the hairs on the back of his neck start to stand up, the intense sense of being _watched_ washing over him like a wave. He's learned to trust his instincts wherever possible, and while his normal instinct would be to address the watcher and give them the impression he's got eyes in the back of his head, he opts for the less alarming option, turning his head instead.

The slave's staring at him. He's still dressed in nothing but the robe, which to Bruce's immense relief is large enough that it pools around him, both hiding anything Bruce shouldn't be looking at _and_ hiding the slave's impressive musculature.

With the drug having worn off, there's an alertness in his eyes that wasn't there before, his eyes obviously focused on Bruce as he watches him work.

Or watched, anyway. Bruce has stopped, because getting what information he can from his new travelling companion is of the utmost importance. He needs that information. More than just needing it, he needs to make sure the _Lanterns_ have it. It could mean the difference between life and death for a lot of people.

He half expects the slave to speak and ask him what's going on, but he's silent instead, seemingly refusing to speak until Bruce does. It's a smart move, and the same one Bruce would make in his position. It lets him get a better understanding of the situation, and while Bruce has no idea how long the man has been enslaved, Bruce finds himself impressed by his survival instincts just the same.

"You're safe," Bruce says simply. "Do you know what the Green Lanterns are?"

"...An intergalactic police force," the slave says. His voice is nice enough, but so clearly weary that it's hard to focus on what he's even saying. "...Are you one of them?"

"I'm working in association with them," Bruce says. "We're investigating hu— Kryptonian trafficking." He supposes it isn't human trafficking, or at least it's not intended to be. Humans are simply a byproduct.

The slave is silent again, staring at Bruce as if expecting more questions, and right then something in Bruce snaps. He's tired of thinking of the man as a slave, and he's desperate to put a name to the face.

"What's your name?" he asks. It isn't the most pressing thing, but it feels like it is right then. The slave in front of him is a person, and Bruce wants to be able to start really thinking of him as one.

There's hesitation, which Bruce doesn't expect. He's worked with victims of human trafficking before, and he knows that there's not always an immediate recognition that they've been saved, but this feels... different, and he has a hard time putting his finger on why. Maybe because it feels more personal. Doing it all as Batman feels very different from doing it all as Bruce Wayne, and right then he's very much _Bruce Wayne,_ his suit laying to the side, leaving him wearing nothing but clothes that wouldn't look out of place in a gym.

"Kal," he finally says. "Kal-El."

"I'm—" There's a moment's hesitation as Bruce tries to decide, and then he settles with something that he won't have to explain later. "Bruce. Bruce Wayne. As I mentioned, I'm working with the Green Lanterns to investigate."

"...You bought me," Kal says, the wariness in his tone still there.

"I purchased you with tracked money so that both the seller and the auction house which sold you could be raided by the Lanterns. While I understand your concern on the matter, I have no plans to keep you. You can see for yourself," Bruce says, gesturing to the man's throat. "Your control collar has been removed. I don't have any plans to use it, but I'm sure the Lanterns would like to look it over so they can find easier ways to remove them from other rescued slaves."

It's only then that Bruce realizes what's happening: Kal expects a trap. Bruce wonders if he's naturally paranoid, or if this is simply something that's been done to him before. Baiting him with freedom to see how he responds, and then punishing him for trying to take it.

Frustratingly, he's at a loss for how to explain to him that the safety offered is real. He doesn't know how to prove something like that: to prove that he's really, truly free. It seems like an impossibility, almost. Like proving the negative, only worse.

All he can do is put it aside and try to deal with his _own_ affairs, hoping that might calm Kal down.

"I have a lot of questions," Bruce says. "The more information you can provide, the higher the likelihood we can rescue anyone else you were being kept with. The locations where you were stored. Any past masters. Any information you can provide might be useful." This feels like familiar territory: the same sort of questions. The same things to focus on.

Just in space.

"I didn't see any of it," Kal says. "They kept us blindfolded when they moved us, and the place I was being stored didn't have any windows. Kryptonians—" He cuts himself off and glances away.

"Yes?" Bruce prompts, hoping he'll answer, but Kal doesn't, changing subjects instead.

"I'm sorry, I can't tell you anything."

It's exceptionally frustrating, to say the least. The lack of information means that Kal's rescue isn't likely going to help much at all. Bruce had been hoping for more, and the fact that Kal might _actually_ have that information and just be hiding it because he thinks the whole thing is a sham...

That just makes it that more frustrating.

"Are you..." Kal's eyes sweep over him, searching for something he doesn't seem to find. "...a Kryptonian?"

"No," Bruce says. Maybe this is the reason for the hesitation. Maybe Bruce isn't sending off some Kryptonian only signal, or maybe he's just acting the wrong way for a Kryptonian. "My species is physically identical to Kryptonians, and a number of us have been trafficked as Kryptonian slaves. I understand that with the control collar in place our abilities are effectively identical."

"I doubt that."

There's a hard edge to Kal's voice, and his hands ball into fists. Bruce gives no response to his anger, holding his ground as he stares Kal down.

"I wouldn't know. The mechanics of the control collar are lost to me, and I'm unfamiliar with Kryptonian physiology. I can only repeat what I've been told, and what I've managed to piece together."

"The control collars are— they're agonizing," Kal says. "Any slave who can manage to keep a straight face wearing one has probably been wearing one so long they've gotten used to it. It's like a knife half-buried in your neck at all times, and you can't— if you aren't affected by Kryptonite the way we are, you can't understand what that's like."

"I can't," Bruce says, which seems to genuinely surprise the Kryptonian. He seems to have been expecting Bruce to argue, to _insist_ he knew what it was like. "But you've provided us more valuable information." He's not sure _how_ useful, but the knowledge that Kryptonite—he assumes that must be what the green stone was—is physically painful might have applications anyway. "I'll pass it back to the Lanterns."

"What are you going to do now that you have me?" Kal says, obviously testing the waters.

"I was recruited because I'm trying to locate those who've been taken from my city. If you were one of them, I'd have returned you home. Kryptonians are beyond my level, so I'll hand you off to the Lanterns at Oa."

"That's it?" Kal asks, his eyebrows furrowing together. "You're just going to... hand me off to the Lanterns?"

"I don't have the resources to return you to whatever family you might have," Bruce says. "Better you go with the group that actually knows what they're doing out here. Hopefully your purchase will let the Lanterns rescue those who are being held."

"But what about the rest?!" Kal blurts, shoving himself to his feet. "What about the other Kryptonians?"

"That's out of my area," Bruce says. "I'm a single man with painfully limited resources when it comes to things like this. The Lanterns are the ones you want to talk to about this."

"Those people are... they're _suffering,"_ Kal says, throwing his arms wide. "If you helped me, then you should be able to help them!"

"I managed to help you because I'd been fed vital information as to where you were and how to get to you. This isn't something I could have done on my own. You're looking at the wrong man."

"How can you just let this happen?" Kal yells, the frustration bursting to the surface in what seems to Bruce to be startlingly little time. "How can you not step up and do something about it?"

"Because your people aren't the only ones suffering," Bruce barks. "There are people suffering back at home in Gotham. People who _need_ the help I can offer them. Gallivanting around the universe trying to stick my nose in and help with things I don't understand and have no control over is a waste of effort when I could be back in Gotham, helping people whose lives I can _actually_ affect."

Kal makes a noise of pure frustration and turns away. The ship is small and Kal's options are severely limited by the size, but apparently he's done being in the same room with Bruce, because he storms out of the main room and out the only door available to him: the one that leads down to the ship's storage deck.

Bruce watches him go, frustration bubbling. Kal's too idealistic, too naive. He thinks that just _wanting_ is enough, when Bruce knows it's no such thing. He can't save everyone, and the idea that he should be personally responsible for saving _every_ Kryptonian is absurd.

It's only a half hour later as Bruce finishes cleaning up his gear that he realizes that the universal translator he was supposed to be wearing is still resting on the command console, right where he left it when he took off his suit. It takes him an embarrassingly long time to realize the implication of it, and when he does it hits him like a brick.

Kal was speaking in English, and Bruce has absolutely no idea why.


	5. Chapter 5

The correct thing to do would be to march through the door and head straight down to the ship's storage deck (although _deck_ is probably too generous a term for it, considering the size) and confront Kal. The fact that he's speaking in English doesn't make any sense, but someone might as well have painted _it's a clue, idiot!_ on the side for how obvious it is.

There's something to it. There's some importance to the fact that Kal speaks English. It means... something. That he's been around humans (more specifically humans from, if Bruce is getting things right, humans from the vicinity of North America, judging by the accent he speaks with).

But Kal obviously doesn't want to talk with him, so Bruce finishes his work up in the main room, giving Kal time to cool off. Only once he's done—and they're less than thirty minutes out from Oa—does Bruce put his armor back on, debating pulling the cowl up before leaving it as it is as he descends down to the storage deck.

The deck is a glorified broom cupboard, but that hasn't stopped Kal from sitting in the corner, staring at the wall. His shoulders are hunched, and there's no question in Bruce's mind that Kal knows he's there. He's made no secret of his presence, made no attempt to hide that he was coming.

"Kal," he calls, and gets no response.

"Kal," he calls again, and when there's still no response Bruce forges on ahead anyway. "We need to talk."

"You said I'm free," Kal says, which is wrong. Bruce never said that, but he supposes it's close enough to what he _did_ say that there's no real point in arguing. "If I'm free, then I'm free to choose what I want to do, and who I want to talk to."

The unsaid implication is, of course: _and I don't want to talk with you._

Bruce leaves Kal where he sits and goes back to the cockpit. He can't risk sabotaging the fact that Kal seems to genuinely believe he's free by undercutting it with nagging questions whose importance Bruce isn't yet sure of.

When they land on Oa it feels like an actual relief to see the Lanterns and their leaders. Bruce has never liked the Guardians for a multitude of reasons, but right then they feel familiar to him in a way that the current situation isn't. Even if Hal isn't there, John Stewart alone is enough that Bruce can trust that the Lanterns aren't going to expect more from him than he's willing to offer.

"Batman of Earth," one of the Guardians says, floating forward, right at eye level. "I understand you've brought the freed slave along?"

"He's in the cargo hold," Bruce says, and when John makes an absolutely scandalized expression, Bruce rolls his eyes. "He's there of his own free will. He was expecting me to be a Kryptonian crusader, to fly around the galaxy saving his people."

"And you're not going to," John says. There's no judgement: he's worked with Bruce long enough to know what to expect. John steps forward, brushing past Bruce as he heads into the ship, and Bruce turns his attentions to the Guardians.

"Did the plan work?" he asks.

"As much as any plan of this level of complexity can be said to work," the Guardian says cryptically. Bruce grunts, and one of the other Guardians makes a point to step up and clarify for him.

"We have dispatched the Lanterns to make arrests at both locations. How well things go remains to be seen—there is a great deal of follow up that must be handled before we can understand how successful this was. Early reports seem positive."

Dismantling an entire trafficking ring isn't something that can be done in ten minutes, but Bruce is still happy to hear that things are going well. Even so, he's still wary, and he turns his head when he hears John's feet coming down the ship's ramp.

Kal's following just behind him, still dressed in the robe he was given, but it's covering enough that Bruce doubts any of them realize he's not wearing anything underneath it. He's pretty sure that if John knew, he'd be putting more of an effort in to finding Kal some clothes. Kal, on the other hand, doesn't seem to mind at all. Realistically speaking, it's probably more than he's worn in a while.

"We're going to debrief you," the Guardian says, mostly to Bruce. "Then we have some followup questions which should hopefully expand our understanding of the situation."

Kal obviously doesn't want to be around him, but he's not willing to offend the Guardians, who he seems to like a great deal. Instead, he simply ignores Bruce's presence, keeping his eyes forward as they're lead inside. There's food for them—food that's completely alien to Bruce but apparently familiar to Kal—and only once they've eaten are they lead into the Guardian's main chamber. All the Guardians are there, arranged in a half-circle around Bruce and Kal, and Bruce is almost relieved when some of the Lanterns that he recognize begin to filter in, making the whole thing feel less like a trial.

"Kal-El of Krypton," one of the Guardians says, turning her eyes towards him. "I understand you have already been told what it is that we are trying to do, and that you, if possible, will aid us however you can."

"Of course," Kal says. "If it's going to help the other Kryptonians..."

"That would be our aim," the Guardian confirms. "While we can offer you no guarantees, we can swear we will handle the situation as best we can. Slavery in any form is reprehensible, and for almost an entire species of sapient beings—already on the brink of extinction—to be forced into slavery is that much more so." She pauses, turning her head to John. "Corps Leader Stewart?"

"I've got a few questions for you, Kal," John says, clearing his throat. "I'm only generally familiar with Kryptonian culture, but El is your family name?"

Kal bobs his head, a silent confirmation.

"Do you have any remaining family?"

There's hesitation—he's obviously not sure—but after a moment Kal shakes his head.

"They died with Krypton," he says, and there's a quiet somber murmur that runs through the room.

Bruce is rapidly realizing that his presence there is unnecessary. It's possible some of the questions will be for him, but he's already sent a full report on to the Lanterns. John should know exactly what happened, and exactly what Bruce thought about it. He debates leaving, but he needs a Lantern to take him back to Earth.

"Apologies in advance for the directness of these questions," John says, "but it's a messy situation. How long were you enslaved?"

Bruce can _see_ Kal counting back the years as he stands there in silence. After a moment, there's a subtle shake of his head, and he looks up at John.

"How long since Krypton died?"

John makes a confused noise which Bruce doesn't understand. He seems bothered by the answer, and Bruce lacks the information to understand why.

"Around twenty-five years," John says. "To confirm, you've been enslaved since then?"

"Yeah," Kal confirms. "I've had... maybe ten, eleven people buy me since then? Depending on if you want to count him." Kal nods his head towards Bruce, who refuses to rise to the jab. He can't decide if the jab was intentional or not, and that means he needs to keep his mouth shut unless he _knows._

The guardians are clearly bothered by Kal's answers. There's quiet murmurs between them, so soft Bruce can't quite follow. It takes an effort to bite his tongue, to not ask them to explain.

Bruce can't tell if John has caught on to his confusion, or if he opts to explain purely for Kal's sake.

"This changes the information we have significantly," John confirms. "From our understanding, there was no demand for the sale of Kryptonians until almost five years after Krypton perished. The information we have indicates that Kryptonians were effectively completely free for the first few years. The first record we have of a Kryptonite slave isn't until eight years after Krypton was lost. Even assuming there was an earlier sale... this completely changes our timeline."

Bruce can't bite his tongue any longer.

"Is this important?" he asks, eyes dancing along the row of Guardians. From what he just heard they're debating the _historical value_ of something that happened almost twenty years ago. He doesn't see how it's significant, and he doesn't see how it changes the situation with those who are being smuggled _now._

"Perhaps," one of the Guardian's says. "The model we have been operating on seems to have been faulty."

"Alright," John announces, drawing everyone's attention back to him. "Taking this information into account, we can change things around. Kal, how did you get off planet, and when did you get picked up?"

Kal looks absolutely baffled by the question.

"They took me?" he says, although he doesn't sound certain.

"...Who?"

"The slavers. I was... I think I was outside, and they took me. I couldn't understand them at the time, but now I figure they must have been slavers."

The dissent is no longer a quiet murmur. It's practically an uproar.

"This changes everything," one of the Guardians says. "This means that slavers were pursuing Kryptonian slaves even before Krypton was lost. It makes no sense—it throws every bit of understanding we have of the situation into question."

"Ah," Bruce says quietly, and even if the Guardian's don't hear, John does.

"I think Batman has something to say," he announces loudly, and the noise dies down as every pair of eyes (and several non-paired eyes) turn towards him.

"I think there's been a misunderstanding," Bruce says. "I don't think Kal is from Krypton."

"I'm a Kryptonian," Kal blurts. "Of course I'm from Krypton." He seems offended, but Bruce doesn't have the energy to argue with him about the problems with that statement.

"You think he's a human?" John asks, raising his eyebrows.

"I was under the impression from your report that he had a strong response to Kryptonite," one of the Guardians says.

"Assuming it is Kryptonite," Bruce says. "I don't have a sample to compare it against. It's entirely possible it's a completely different substance. Or maybe he's a human who was experimented on so that he'd respond to Kryptonite, which would allow him to prove his authenticity."

"That doesn't make any sense," John says. "The timeline..."

Bruce takes a second to reassess his understanding of the situation, putting the pieces in order.

"You've assumed that everything he explained took place on Krypton," Bruce says. "Kal, how old were you when you were taken?"

"I..." Kal hesitates. Before he was defensive, but right then he looks almost frightened. It's like he can see the revelation on the horizon, and he's doing everything he can to ignore it. "Young. Six? Seven? It was a boy. I don't remember... I don't remember much about it."

"Kal wasn't taken from Krypton," Bruce says simply. "Kal was taken from Earth. He's a human... and probably one of the first humans taken to be passed off as a Kryptonian."

"If they could do this, wouldn't we have seen a lot more humans taken?" John says. He's skeptical, but Bruce is already convinced. It makes all the pieces come together neatly.

"The process could have been too expensive to be worthwhile, or Kal might have done something to make them believe that the process wasn't worth exploring. But with such a large demand for Kryptonian slaves in the past few years, they reassessed their cost-benefit analysis and decided it was worth it."

"I'm assuming you have some kind of proof you're hiding up your sleeve," John says, and the corner of Bruce's mouth quirks up.

"Kal speaks English."

John's mouth actually drops open slightly, and he immediately reaches up, taking his ring off and setting it aside as he turns to Kal.

"Is that true?"

"I don't know," Kal says, and John's reaction makes it clear that he understands what he's saying even without the translator in the ring. "I was always... I was always told it was Kryptonian, and that I wasn't allowed to speak it. They didn't want us talking to each other."

"Kal-El is a human," Bruce says, confident in his deduction. "Your original timeline for Kryptonian slavery throughout the galaxy still stands as you understood it, because he wasn't taken from Krypton, but from Earth. He was likely one of the first humans taken, but this still would have happened years after the death of Krypton."

Which does mean Bruce needs to reassess Kal's age. He assumed he was in his late thirties based on what he knew, but now he's had to readjust: Kal's probably closer to thirty one, meaning he's gone from being older than Bruce to being younger.

Kal's all but deflated where he stands. Even if he wasn't allowed to speak Kryptonian and probably wasn't allowed to talk about _home_ with the other slaves, it's still a major blow. His sense of self—of who he fundamentally _is_ as a person—has just been called into question. Much of his own personal history is now wrong, and one of the Guardians broaches what remains to be discussed more carefully than Bruce would have.

"Kryptonians are said to posses great power," she says. "Have you also been gifted with those abilities...?"

"I don't know," Kal says quietly. "Kryptonians need... we need light from a yellow sun before we we have any abilities, and we were always kept away from it. There's always been a control collar on—"

Even as Bruce watches, Kal continues to spiral, his self doubts rising to the surface. What does Kal even know about humans? What does he really know about his own history? The anguish on his face is plain as day, and after a moment Bruce looks away, suddenly uncomfortable. He wanted the truth, but right then the truth feels like it's a step too far. He feels like he's just taken a knife to Kal's heart and now he's having to watch the man bleed out on the ground in front of him.

"Considering how long ago he was taken and the number of people he's been sold to, there's a decent chance that the sellers themselves weren't aware of the truth," Bruce says. "Or it's possible they suspected—it would explain the desire to sell so quickly, even with obvious Lantern attention."

"No," Kal says softly. "They wanted to get rid of me because I tried to escape. I... I convinced the other— the Kryptonians to escape with me. They wanted to get me to leave because they thought I was going to start a rebellion. They wanted me to be... to be away from other slaves."

Oh.

Bruce really can't stop himself from smiling, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

"Well done," he mutters under his breath.

"This does bring up a different question," John says, folding his arms across his chest. His ring's back on, which makes him look significantly more dignified standing in the Guardian's court. "How did they find Earth? Unless Kal is much younger than he looks, that would mean slavers found Earth before the first human made contact with alien life."

Which is Hal, but John doesn't bring him up, since everyone's already thinking about him anyway.

"I have no ideas," Bruce admits. "It's worth investigating. If we can find out how they found Earth, it might give us more insight into who's poaching. There's a high likelihood that there's only one actual group collecting humans right now, considering the number of missing persons we're looking into."

"Then we will leave that in your hands," one of the Guardians says after a quick discussion between them. "Just as you have left this in our hands, we leave earthside investigations to you."

Which really only leaves one matter, and Bruce clears his throat, his eyes shifting over to Kal.

When they'd arrived, Bruce had fully planned to leave him with the Guardians. There had been no reason for him to come along to Earth, but now, knowing what he does, there's no question _but_ him coming back to Earth. Even if he's been gone for years and years, he's still a human, stolen away from his home, and that means it falls to Bruce to get him safely home.

And if he's lucky, find out just why he was taken in the first place.

Bruce could just talk to the Guardians and decide things that way. There's nothing stopping him: Kal has literally nothing to his name, no way on or off the planet, and his fate is literally in the hands of Bruce and the Guardians. If the Guardians tell him to go with Bruce, he'll literally have to go.

But Bruce doesn't want to do that. He'd prefer to let Kal have at least a shred of dignity if he can.

"Kal," he calls, drawing the other man's attention. "I know we didn't get off to the right start—" Which was, in retrospect, based entirely on a faulty assumption. "—But I'd like to return you to Earth and help you find your family."

"They died," Kal murmurs. "The planet..." But he never finishes the sentence. Human memories are faulty at the best of times, and trying to remember what things were like decades ago after being told something else entirely isn't likely to help. Most likely he doesn't remember the fate of his parents at all, and instead has let himself be convinced they _must_ have died with the planet.

"That's something we can look into," Bruce says simply. He doesn't want to contradict him, even if they both likely know he's wrong. Kal's effectively a trauma victim, even if the source of that particular trauma is long past. "I have resources and people who can help get you home. Help you start a new life there."

Kal seems to take a long time to respond, his gaze unfocused, but eventually his hands clench into fists and he takes a deep breath, straightening his head.

"Then... I'll take you up on that," he says. "If I'm— If I am really a human, than I should go back to Earth and find out what happened. And... and being on earth would probably help you find out more about other humans who were taken."

"It would," Bruce confirms. "While I obviously can't say for sure, but identifying how the traffickers first found Earth—and the route they're using to find their victims without being located—is the best lead we're likely to get."

"Lantern Jordan is currently occupied," a Guardian says. "I am certain that Lantern Stewart would not mind returning you once more to Gotham...?"

"No problem," John says immediately. "I can drop you off at the usual spot, and you can take it from there? Or do you want the League headquarters?"

"Gotham's fine," Bruce says immediately. The idea of introducing Kal to the League—of explaining just who he is and why he's there—seems daunting. There's no easy way to introduce someone as _the man I bought but not really._

"You need anything from the ship?" John asks, and Bruce shakes his head. Everything he has is in his suit, and it's not like Kal has anything he needs to pick up either. Without waiting, John forms a protective bubble around him and Kal for the flight back.

Bruce just hopes it'll be a quick flight.


	6. Chapter 6

John drops them off on a rooftop in the midst of Gotham that Bruce points out to him. The roof has access down to a safe-house, and that's as close as Bruce is willing to let a man who's glowing a brilliant green get to the manor. Bruce's secrecy about his identity isn't likely to last if he lets the Lanterns fly to and from the manor, so the safe-house is the next best thing.

Not that Kal knows that.

"You live here?" Kal asks as Bruce leads him down into what amounts to a small one room apartment.

"No," Bruce says immediately. "But does anything about it seem familiar?"

Kal shakes his head.

"The cityscape?"

Another shake of his head. Kal seems fairly lost, so Bruce stops pushing for answers that the other man isn't capable of giving. Instead, he turns his attention to the cache of clothes he keeps in every base, producing some in his own size. He has no doubt that Kal will fit all but the most carefully tailored of Bruce's clothes, so he grab some that won't look too strange and hands them over. Kal _immediately_ starts to change—his shirt's off before Bruce can even protest—and Bruce makes a choked noise, waving him towards the bathroom.

"Change in there."

"You've already seen me naked," Kal points out. "I don't see what the big deal is."

"It's—" It's difficult to explain, so Bruce falls back on a more tried and true explanation. "It would be considered strange for someone in this part of the world to not be modest. We don't want to attract attention."

"But it's just you."

Bruce resists the urge to make a very strained noise.

"Practice anyway. Go change in the bathroom." He turns away, just so that he isn't tempted to look, and lets himself listen for the sound of the bathroom door clicking shut.

Not for the first time, Bruce wishes his cowl covered more of his face, if only to hide the blush.

He takes the time Kal spends changing to warn Alfred, sending a quick message in the moments before Kal pops his head back out of the bathroom. 

"I'm going to take you back to my home," Bruce says as he tucks his phone away. "You'll be able to settle in there, even if it's only temporary, and hopefully something about Earth will be familiar to you. Ideally, we'll be able to use that to help find where you came from, so if anything—no matter how slight—feels like something you know about or are familiar with, I need you to tell me immediately."

Kal nods, but he doesn't respond right away, and it occurs to Bruce that it's probably intentional. Even if Kal has a rebellious streak a mile long— _going to start a rebellion_ indeed—he's still a slave, and he's only lasted as long as he has because he's learned to keep his mouth shut when it doesn't matter.

"This is about getting you home," Bruce says, trying to sound reassuring. He can manage, but it was never his area of expertise, and he's not sure how effective he is when dealing with a fully grown man compared to a child. 

"I... understand," Kal says, obviously taking care with his words.

"...Then lets go."

Bruce does what he can to keep from looking too closely at Kal as they make their way down to the garage, where a nondescript car waits. He's sure Kal must be (even if he says otherwise), uncomfortable about being leered at, and it's almost painfully hard not to. Either Bruce misjudged the sizes, or Kal's a great deal wider than he expected, filling out his clothes in a way that makes them look like they're about to pop.

It's very, very distracting, and it takes a monumental effort of will to keep his eyes on the road once they get underway.

"...I can't tell if this is familiar," Kal says as they drive. "It almost is? But it's just... it's just a little bit off."

"Maybe you were used to a truck, or something else. Or maybe you were used to riding in the back seat. You were young—being in the back makes sense."

Kal's quiet for a while, staring at the city as it rolls by out the window. They're just starting to leave it when he finally speaks.

"It's not familiar," he says simply. "What if it never is?"

"The Earth's a big place," Bruce points out. "For that matter, _America_ is a big place. There's still plenty of opportunities for you to find them, so try not to get discouraged."

Kal goes silent, and stays that way for the rest of the trip.

Bruce takes the car down one of the more discrete paths to the cave, and he has to stop and pass through his own security more than once. Alfred's waiting for them in the center of the cave once they've parked, and Bruce climbs out of the car, cracking his neck and more than a little happy to be home. The old man's eyes fall to Kal immediately as the other man climbs out, and Bruce is happy he took the time to warn him.

"You must be Kal," Alfred says. "Master Bruce told me that you'd be staying with us for the time being."

Kal's expression is difficult to read, a mix of emotions that seems unwilling to settle.

"Kal, this is Alfred," Bruce says, clearing his throat, and it takes him a second to realize what it is that Kal must be thinking. "He isn't— Alfred is an employee, and an important member of my family. He isn't a slave, Kal."

The message Bruce sent was extremely brief, and Alfred's eyebrow goes up, looking absolutely bewildered.

"Well, I would certainly hope so," he says. 

"I told you about what I was doing out there," Bruce starts to explain. "Kal was one of the humans we managed to rescue. Unfortunately, he's not exactly sure where he's from, so he'll be staying with us until we can find his family."

"Well, hopefully you can help him find them soon," Alfred says. "I can't imagine what you've been through, and I think it would do us both a disservice for me to try, but I'm sure you'll be perfectly comfortable here. I already have a guest room ready, and assuming that Master Bruce isn't going to immediately go back to his nighttime activities, I'm sure you can settle right in."

"Not tonight, anyway," Bruce says with a sigh. "But I did want to check the monitors and make sure I'm up to date—"

Alfred makes a face.

"—I'll check in the morning," Bruce corrects. If there was anything important enough to keep him up at night, Alfred would have already told him about it. "Why don't you two go upstairs, and I'll go change?"

Kal lets himself be lead away by Alfred, and Bruce strips out of the suit, changing into something a great deal more casual. By the time Bruce makes it to the kitchen, Alfred's already in the midst of serving up a quick meal for them. Kal's initially uncomfortable with the fork, but picks up on it after a little while, which only cements Bruce's theory that he's originally from Earth.

"You've done this before," he points out.

"Maybe," Kal admits. "But I've used similar tools while in space. Some cultures had things like them."

For the most part, Bruce leaves Kal in Alfred's hands. Alfred's always been much better at that kind of socializing than he was, and he's a bit too tired otherwise. He hasn't slept since he left Earth more than thirty-six hours ago, and that's catching up to him in a way he's not prepared for. Alfred, on the other hand, is full of energy despite the late hour, and more than happy to show Kal to his room and walk him through everything.

Bruce barely remembers working his way through his nighttime routine, and before he knows it he's waking up in bed the following morning.


	7. Chapter 7

To his immense surprise, by the time Bruce gets down to the kitchen the following morning Kal is already there, dutifully helping Alfred prepare breakfast. Bruce can smell it before he even arrives, and his stomach rumbling gives him away even more than his footsteps do.

"Master Bruce," Alfred calls as he arrives. "The next time you bring guests over with so little notice, be sure they're as helpful as Kal is."

"I'll keep that in mind, Alfred," Bruce says, taking a seat at the kitchen island. He feels _much_ better, well rested after a long, long few days, and when Alfred drops a plate of food in front of him he digs in immediately.

"Alfred's been explaining things to me," Kal says.

"Including the fact that you dress up as a bat and go gallivanting around the universe," Alfred says dryly. "He was quite confused as to why you were dressed the way you were."

"I thought that was your face when I first saw you," Kal admits, and Bruce has to mentally run back through the past few days. He had his cowl down while on the ship, which means...

"I didn't realize you were aware."

"I was aware," Kal says, "I just couldn't control my own body. It's an expensive drug, so they only use it on occasions where making sure a slave isn't going to make a scene is really important."

The idea that Kal was fully aware when Bruce was _buying_ him bothers Bruce for reasons he can't identify, but as he eats he tries to put his mind to other things. Things that matter. Things that can improve Kal's situation in a way that dwelling on the circumstances won't.

Because there is an awful lot for them to do, and that fact isn't lost on Bruce in the slightest. He knows almost nothing about Kal, and Kal knows almost nothing about the Earth (or him, for that matter). His childhood memories are going to be foggy and misleading, and while Bruce is hoping they'll come back with time, he's also fairly sure that some help wouldn't be unwarranted.

Once everyone's done eating, he guides Kal back down into the cave through the secret entrance behind the clock. If Kal thinks it's strange, he gives no sign, but he does look around a bit more obviously once they're down in the cave.

"This is where we arrived last night," he says, surprised.

"This is where I work," Bruce confirms. "I live upstairs, but down here is where I get my work done."

"Where you're... _Batman,"_ Kal says. He sounds almost amused when he says it, as if he finds the whole idea silly.

"You really thought I was a bat-person?"

"I didn't even know what a bat was, but I thought the ears were real."

Bruce sinks into his seat in front of the computer, looking up at it without actually turning it on.

"Is Kal the only name you remember? Most people on Earth have at least two names... a given one and a family one."

"Kal-El," he corrects. "The El is supposed to be my... my Kryptonian family name."

There's a couple options there. Completely setting aside whether it fits the appropriate Kryptonian naming structure, the name is probably at least _similar_ to whatever Kal's original human name was. It would be easier to get a Matthew to answer to Mar than something like Kal, and it's not as if the slavers had to check against a Kryptonian name registry. So whatever Kal's real name is, it's probably in the general vicinity.

"Calvin, maybe?" Bruce asks. The _Cal_ is similar enough that it's the first thing that jumps to mind, but Kal simply stares at him in confusion, unsure of what he's doing, and Bruce realizes he hasn't really explained anything. "Your birth name is probably similar to the name they gave you. Similar sounds. If I show you a list of names, could you tell me if anything seems familiar?"

Bruce uses the computer for the most mundane use imaginable: pulling up a list of common names starting with C or K. He lets Kal sit down, reading them over, and watches the way his eyes move at a glacial pace down a screen. Kal can apparently read, but he's rusty, and it takes a long time for him to get to the bottom of the list.

"Anything?"

Kal shakes his head, so Bruce pulls up a _most common names in 1990_ and shows him that instead. "Any of these?"

The list takes just as long, but there's at least a few more focused expressions from Kal as he reads.

"Some of these feel... familiar? Like I've heard them before. But none of them are mine I don't think."

"Which ones?"

Kal points to _Peter_ and _Jonathan_.

"Those more than the others."

Well, at least they've got _something,_ even if it isn't much. There's no point in trying to do a missing person's search, considering the information he has on Kal is far too vague to be of any help. He doesn't know what Kal's name was, or where he's from, or even the year he was taken. Everything's estimate and ranges that Bruce is sure would fit hundreds of people.

"Sorry," Kal says quietly. "I know this isn't very helpful, and you probably want to get me out of the house as soon as possible."

"You're a guest," Bruce says immediately. He can only imagine how Alfred would have reacted if he'd heard Kal say something like _that._ "You're welcome to stay here as long as you need."

"I'm a stranger, and you don't owe me anything."

"This isn't about owing," Bruce protests immediately. He knows that Kal doesn't really (and _can't_ really) have a good sense of what kind of a person he is, but it still bothers him that he thinks it's about _owing._ "You need help. I'm in a position to provide that help. That's all there is too it."

"This isn't your..." Kal hesitates, eyes narrowing warily. "...Job?"

"I do this because someone needs to, and because I can. No one's paying me. The rest of the League are like-minded people, and even if I call them my coworkers, we're not. We're just all people who see a need and aim to fill it."

"To help people."

"And to stop criminals. Batman gives them something to be afraid of, because the police aren't enough in Gotham. When someone's considering committing a crime, my hope is that they'll think about the risks—that they'll think about me finding them in a dark alley—and reconsider."

Kal's frowning, and Bruce gets the distinct impression that he's being very carefully scrutinized.

"You make them fear you."

"Yes." He doesn't bother to deny it.

"Ruling through fear—"

"I don't rule," Bruce says. "I have no interest or desire. If I wanted to, I could run for political office, but that isn't what I want. In an ideal world, I wouldn't be necessary at all. The Gotham Police and those like them would be enough. But right now they aren't. Even if they _weren't_ struggling with issues like police corruption, they simply can't handle those who operate at a level beyond human."

It occurs to Bruce that he's getting into a fairly nuanced philosophical debate with a person who probably doesn't have a clear understanding about what a _police force_ is, let alone the issues with corruption.

But he's proven wrong. Even if Kal hasn't been on Earth in decades, he understands the general idea, and Bruce supposes that many problems are universal.

"That's a problem on a lot of places," Kal says. "What do you do when a more advanced species invades? Most people fight back. Sometimes the Green Lanterns help."

"If you want a comparison, the Justice League is intended to be like the Green Lantern Corps... of Earth. The Lanterns can't possibly be counted on to handle all of Earth's problems, and there are plenty of things that only someone who lives here can handle."

"So you handle the things that ordinary humans can't."

"That's the idea, anyway."

"But you are..." Once again Kal pauses, looking over Bruce for something he apparently doesn't find. "...human?"

Bruce can't stop himself from cracking a smile, offering a brief nod.

"Yes," he confirms. "I'm human. Most of the League are human, although they're human with certain... advantages."

Kal looks at him expectantly, and it's clear what he's waiting for. He's waiting for Bruce to announce what his _advantages_ are. To reveal that he has perfect hearing, or that he's super strong.

"But I'm just human."

"You fight people who aren't, but you're just human...?"

"I have things that can help me. Technology and allies. And more importantly... I think we've gotten off task. We've spoken a great deal about me, but very little about you." Kal looks apprehensive as the questions are turned back on him, his posture closed. "What do you remember from before you were taken?"

"I mean... not very much," Kal admits, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair. He really is the picture of health, a fact that Bruce is immensely thankful for. With all the things that need to get handled, he can at least rest easy knowing that nursing Kal back to health isn't one of them. "It's... small, vague things. Sorry, I know that isn't much help."

"You were very young," Bruce says. "It's not surprising that your memories are vague. Our best case scenario here is for you to continue doing the things we need to do, and if anything feels familiar at all, to immediately let me know. That might give us good leads on experiences you've had or places you've been."

"What things do we need to do, then?" Kal asks, and the impression that Kal is simply _lost_ only increases.

"You need to see a doctor to make sure everything's in order. I don't want to find out that no one was giving you any vitamin C in space, and now you've got scurvy."

Kal looks even more mystified than before.

"...Scurvy is a serious illness which can be treated simply by eating an orange. It's... the reputation it has is that it's something pirates would get because they didn't have fresh fruit while sailing," Bruce tries to explain. It's difficult to do, because he has absolutely no idea how much Kal does or doesn't know. Does he know what an orange is? About fruit? What about pirates? Bruce simply has no idea what concepts are familiar to him or not.

"I know this is asking a lot," Bruce says, "but I need to get a bit more... feedback on how much you do or don't know. Do you know what a pirate is? Fruit?"

"I know both," Kal says immediately. "When I was using the translator, everything was translated back into English for me. So even if I didn't know what pirates were while on Earth, I learned while in space. Or at least the general concept of things. Pirates... go on ships and steal things, right? They raid places. Take slaves."

"More or less," Bruce says, letting out a sigh of relief. It makes everything so much easier for him to not have to explain every other word. "If I ever mention you don't understand, just ask," Bruce adds as Kal gets up from his seat. "I'll get you a doctor's appointment. You're going to need to meet the League so I can explain the situation. I'll have a fake ID prepared for you, and we're going to have to come up with a story."

"A... story?"

"I can't exactly say how I found you, so you can be a family friend who's visiting. I maintain a level of secrecy about my nighttime activities, as I'm sure Alfred mentioned."

"He did," Kal confirms. "So I'll be a family friend from out of town?"

"Unless you have a better idea," Bruce says. He starts up the stairs, and Kal trails behind him, up and out of the cave. He seems happier once they're out, more relaxed, and the more Bruce thinks about it the more obvious it becomes why Kal would be happier in the house than a literal cave. Even though he went downstairs to use the computer, he decides that in the future he'll try and have his talks with Kal above ground.

He lets Alfred handle the doctor's appointment and excuses himself to his office to speak to the League. He has a _lot_ to catch them up on, and he's already dreading every second.


	8. Chapter 8

Even if the Justice League has an actual headquarters, Bruce has no intention of going to it right then. For one, the only time they have an all-hands-on-deck sort of meeting is when it's an actual _crisis._ Otherwise it's better to have people in their own areas, ready to go if something happens locally. If something blows up in Gotham, being down in Metropolis isn't going to help them at all.

Instead, he heads down into the cave and sets things up for a routine conference call. It lets all the members of the League know that something requires their attention, and they'll all either make time or send someone who can.

Or at least _most_ of them will.

Bruce sends out the call and then goes about producing a fake ID for Kal. He goes with _Calvin,_ even if the name is wrong, because it wouldn't be unusual for him to call him Kal in that case. He picks the last name off a list that starts with _El_ and ends up with Ellis. He sends a quick message for Alfred to take a suitable photo, and by that point there's at least two people in the conference call.

Unsurprisingly, Victor is one of the two. The young man's more or less connected directly to the headquarter's systems, and that means he can access them even remotely. He's not on video, and Bruce suspects that he's probably up and about, working on something while they talk.

"The man of the hour," Vic says. "I'd been... what, two and a half years since you last called us rather than vice versa?"

"It was more like a year," Mary says. Officially, she's not a member of the Justice League at all, that spot taken by her brother, Billy.

But Billy is also ten, and that means he has school, and if Bruce is being completely honest with himself he _vastly_ prefers talking to someone who's at least in college. Mary's effectively the responsible adult for their team, and Bruce couldn't be happier to have her along.

"It's not an emergency this time, for one," Bruce says. "Something came up and I wanted to make sure you were all aware. Who are we expecting?"

"Hal's busy, so John said he'd check in ten minutes from now. Arthur, Diana, Oliver, Barry... J'onn's the only one who's confirmed he can't make it."

"He has a case?" Bruce guesses, and there's a brief pause—Bruce guesses Vic just nodded without thinking about it—before he clears his throat and confirms.

"Can't make it."

Bruce doesn't want to have to repeat himself, so he gets other work out of the way while everyone else piles in. Arthur's the last to arrive, citing diplomatic matters, and it's only once he's seated and ready to go that Vic flips on his camera, finally sitting down.

"Is this related to what you were doing with Hal?" Barry asks, which Bruce supposes is as good a start as any to the meeting.

"Yes. As you all know because I briefed you at the last meeting, I've been looking into disappearances in the Gotham area. All uniformly young men and women. Right at their peak, very physically fit. You were looking into something in Star City?"

"Not related to your case, I'm afraid," Oliver says. "There was an uptick in missing persons out here, but mostly middle aged and not particularly healthy. I already solved that one though. Meant to give you an update, but then this meeting came up so it didn't matter anyway."

Bruce decides that it's a good thing Star City isn't connected. It means he was right: there's probably just one group poaching from Earth.

"So what's the case?" Diana asks. "And how are the Lanterns involved."

"You want me to get this one, Bruce?" John asks, and Bruce nods, letting him handle the general explanation.

To Bruce's amusement, it's _much_ more to the point than Hal's original explanation.

"The Lanterns have been investigating the enslavement and trafficking of a non-human sapient species known as Kryptonians. Physically, they're nearly identical to humans in every way, but have additional powers when charged in sunlight, including flight, enhanced strength, and so on. It's common for Kryptonian slaves to wear power-nullifying collars, and someone had the bright idea of grabbing very fit humans, putting fake collars on them, and sending them out into the universe as Kryptonian slaves."

"Why kind of scale are we looking at?" Mary asks, lips pinching with concern.

"Hard to say," Bruce says. He has more details than John does, at least when it comes to this. "We rescued what has to be one of the earliest humans taken, and he's been enslaved for around twenty years. Obviously they haven't been poaching that whole time, or we'd know, but we're still hammering out the details. I know seven are missing in Gotham. We _believe,_ but don't have evidence, that they might have taken a break for some time, but we're still chasing down the lead."

"Tell them what the lead is," John says, folding his arms over his chest. "Or just show them."

"He's busy. Our lead is a human going by Kal-El who was enslaved. We rescued him as part of an undercover operation, but he doesn't remember his real name or where he's from. He speaks English, but his accent is muddled, and seemed familiar with some common American names. He's going to be staying with me until we can get him back to his family."

"You're letting someone stay with you?" Barry asks, and Bruce scowls at him.

"Try not to sound so surprised."

"It _is_ a bit surprising, Bruce," Diana says. "Considering how long it took for you just to tell us your identity..."

Bruce grumbles at the lot of them.

"The point is that he's staying here with me. I'm going to spend the next few weeks—or however long it takes—finding out what I can and getting to the bottom of this. Right now it's important for us to establish a timeline for how long the poachers have been active on Earth, and hopefully discover a way to track them. If we can find more information on them, the Lanterns should be able to recover those they've taken."

Or at least most of them. Some are probably already lost. Some might never get home at all. But right then they have more of a lead than they ever did before, and Bruce is going to milk it for all that it's worth.

"Anything you need from us?" Vic asks, and Bruce shakes his head.

"I have it handled. If I need anything, I'll alert the league, but as it stands this is something that can be handled by me and the Lanterns."

Everyone else makes a point of reporting in what they're doing, even if there's no actual hurry. It's important to keep in touch and to keep everyone up to date, because there's no telling when a major criminal from Central City will decide that Fawcett City is worth giving a try.

But Bruce is eager to get back to things, so even as everyone else talks he pulls the photo Alfred just took off the network and sets about printing out Kal's fake ID. He doesn't do the _full_ setup, in part because there's no reason for Kal to be away from him for any period of time, but just enough that it'll past a cursory inspection of the ID itself.

He shouldn't even need to use it, but Bruce always prefer to be prepared.

When he heads upstairs, Kal and Alfred are waiting for him, and Kal's already got his shoes on. Alfred's outfitted him with the best winter gear money can buy, and it all _mostly_ fits, even if it's a bit too small.

"He's going to need bigger clothes," Bruce mutters, looking Kal over quickly. He'd really rather Kal _not_ be quite so... appealing to look at. Something a big baggier would probably help Bruce keep his focus to himself.

Because whether or not Bruce wants to admit it, Kal is a _very_ attractive sight, and he's having a hard time looking directly at him without thinking about how they first met. How Kal looked in golden chains, a—

Bruce clears his throat, hand raised to hide the blush on his cheeks.

"Kal, did you end up keeping the... _attire_ you were wearing at the auction? I wanted to take a look at that red gem."

Bruce is lying, but he's lying as much to himself as anyone else.

"It's up in my room," Kal says. "Do you want me to get it?"

"Not this moment unless it's an emergency," Alfred says. "The doctor made a last minute appointment when I fibbed about the circumstances. I said Kal here had been out of country for a long while and didn't have any health records, and he promised to give him a full physical."

"I'll handle that," Bruce says. "Can you get him a... well, a whole wardrobe. He's going to need a bit of everything, and just—"

"I can work out his sizes," Alfred confirms. "I'll make sure he has enough to manage with by the time you get back... or at least by later today."

"You're the best, Al," Bruce says, grinning as he glances towards Kal. "This is for you, in case you need it. Your name is Calvin Ellis, but you just go by Kal."

He hands the ID over, and Kal stares at it for a moment before putting it in his pocket. He doesn't have a wallet or anything like that, and for some reason _that_ of all things hammers home to Bruce how lost he is.

He has nothing. Everything he possesses is what Bruce gives to him. He's vulnerable, even if he's no longer a slave, and that only makes him feel that much guiltier for the thoughts he's having, so he pushes them away and gets down to work.

"Come on then," he says. "Lets get you to the doctor."


	9. Chapter 9

Bruce doesn't normally sit in waiting rooms, but there's precious little else for him to do. Going in with Kal would look unusual, and he's already briefed Kal on everything he should _reasonably_ need to know. As long as they keep things strictly medical, they'll be just fine.

Or at least that's the plan, which derails the moment Kal bursts through the door, looking _bizarrely_ excited.

"Bruce!" he says far too loudly, drawing the attention of literally everyone. "His name is Clark, I think that's— I think that's me. I think _I'm_ Clark."

"Kal," Bruce says, dropping his voice. "Please, voice _down..."_

"Mr. Wayne?" the doctor says from the door, his eyebrow raised. "Could I speak to you for a moment?"

Bruce is already trying to figure out how he's going to explain the whole thing without having to bust out a batarang, so he does what he can to keep a straight face as he and Kal step into the doctor's office.

"I'm not sure _why_ you opted to disguise the patient's amnesia..." The doctor says. "But I would like an explanation, because as you can imagine, it's quite concerning."

Amnesia.

Perfect, he can work with that.

"Kal, could you stand outside for a moment?" Bruce asks, and Kal's so quick to obey that Bruce feels another stab of annoyance at himself. He doesn't let it show, turning back to the doctor the moment the door's closed.

"I understand this is an unusual situation. Kal's a friend of mine who was recently in an accident. He..." Bruce pauses, taking a second to compose something suitably scandalous that _Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy_ would want to hide it. "His wife was having an affair with his brother. From what I understand from his parents, he stormed out and took off. Ended up wrapping his car around a tree. He was in the hospital only for a short time, but at the moment he seems to have amnesia, although his family doctor back home suggested he might be faking it because it's easier."

The doctor's eyebrows keep going higher and higher as Bruce feeds him more and more bullshit about Kal's _tragic history._

"If he's faking, everyone was of the opinion that he'd probably recover better while away from his family and the cause of the initial stress. If he isn't... well, everyone was still of the opinion it might be better for him to come back to himself while away from his wife and brother. They live across the country, so I offered the manor as place for him to recover. Supposedly he doesn't remember his own name, and considering the scene he just made I suspect his amnesia is legitimate."

"His name...?"

"Calvin Ellis is just a pseudonym for while he's here," Bruce says. "Which is why I'm paying in cash. He's not movie star famous, but his family are very important, so if you'd keep things between us..."

"Of course," the doctor says immediately. "Doctor-patient confidentiality is very important."

"Of course. I understand you won't be able to tell me his results, but he's already been checked out by two doctors back out west. This was largely a formality, just in case. I didn't want to have him out here and then find out his blood pressure is actually through the roof or something like that. I'm not a doctor, and I don't know a damn thing beyond that it's a miracle he survived the accident at all."

"Of course."

The doctor's all too happy to help after that. He tells Kal the results and sends him out, and Bruce makes himself not ask until they're safely in the car.

"Did the doctor ask anything unusual?"

Kal shakes his head. He still looks excited, but it's tempered slightly by everything that just happened.

"He asked me a lot of questions about my health, if I'd had any headaches, things like that. I answered honestly and he kept making faces like he was worried about me, and then finally said that I was physically healthy. But Bruce, his name was _Clark."_

"And you think Clark is familiar...?"

"I think that's me. When the nurse said _Doctor Clark will be right in_ I recognized it right away. It's... it's familiar. I think _I'm_ Clark."

Of all the names for him to remember, Clark has to be one of the worst. It's possible it's his first name, but it's equally possible that Clark is his _last_ name. Either is a real option, which doesn't narrow things down much at all.

Even so, when Bruce gets home he makes him a new ID and puts _Calvin Clark_ as his new name. Clark might not actually be his name (first _or_ last), but there's no harm in letting Kal cling to one of the only things he (might) have.

Alfred has a whole new wardrobe ready for Kal, who he ushers away to make sure everything fits. By the time Bruce is done messing around with the ID and getting everything set up, Kal's got more clothes than he could ever reasonably need and is helping Alfred make dinner.

Bruce broaches the subject later, just because he's perhaps a little bit overly wary of Kal feeling like he _has_ to do anything.

"You know you don't need to help if you don't want to," Bruce says. "You're here as a guest. If you want to do nothing but sit around and read, you absolutely can. If you want to stay in bed all day, you can."

"I'm helping because I want to," Kal says, sounding a shade defensive. "I don't like the idea of just... sitting around doing nothing. Alfred could use some help, and he's been nothing but kind to me, so I don't see a reason why I shouldn't help."

"I just want to make sure you know you can do what you want," Bruce says. "I don't want you to feel obligated."

Kal doesn't answer right away, but when he does, it's with a smile.

"You helped save me," he points out. "You've brought me into your home and offered me anything I could want. You're helping me find out who I was and where I'm from. I owe you a lot, and if I can help out, then I don't see any reason why I shouldn't. It's not like I have anything better to do right now."

It doesn't sit quite right with Bruce, but he doesn't want to argue with him either.

But what Bruce _does_ know is that Kal is wrong.

He has a _lot_ to do.


	10. Chapter 10

For all of Kal's expectations about not having much to do, he ends up doing a great deal in the following weeks.

Alfred, worried about Kal's ability to manage things on his own, makes sure to pull some appropriate reading material, nudging Kal through it. At Bruce's suggestion, one of those books is an encyclopedia of American landmarks, which Kal works his way through bit by bit as he remembers how to read comfortably.

The third day he's there, Kal comes to Bruce in his office and, completely without shame, offers him the golden chains he was wearing before.

"You wanted to look at the stone, right?" he asks, and Bruce quickly turns back to his computer, his face red.

"Yes," he says. "Could you drop it down in the cave for me? I'm just in the middle of a work call."

He doesn't really care about the gem—he's pretty sure it's decorative—but he does his due diligence anyway, just in case.

It _is_ just decorative in the end, which means Bruce is left with an ornate set of gold body jewelry and no idea what to do with it. He's not sure if he should return it to Kal or not, and the more he looks at it, the more flustered he gets. In the end he tucks it safely away in a drawer and goes to take a cold shower, swearing not to think about it.

There's no massive hurry where Bruce _has_ to get to the bottom of things, so Bruce ends up dragging his feet. There's other things to do, after all. There's criminals to scare and League matters to deal with, and that's not even touching on the work he's supposed to be doing for Wayne Enterprises. While finding Kal's home is important, it's the definition of not time sensitive. The mystery's been there more than two decades by Bruce's count, and that means dragging things out a few more weeks isn't going to matter.

Kal has other things to learn anyway.

Beyond reading (which Kal carefully does each and every night before bed, sometimes even settling down in front of the fireplace), there are social matters to adjust to. Kal's entire adult life has been him interacting with people who are on a higher social rank than him, and his tendency to drop his eyes and act submissive around people is _very_ apparent to Bruce.

So he does what he can to mitigate it.

He starts small, with those who already know what to expect. He invites Diana over for dinner one evening and lets Kal slowly adjust to being around her. While at first he falls back into his old habits, his eyes dropping to the floor out of instinct, once he's more familiar with her he's back to his usual self: smart and friendly, willing to help just for the sake of it rather than because he has to.

The process repeats any time anyone else comes over. Every new introduction starts with Kal wary, but each successive person he meets helps Kal become comfortable around more and more people.

They go over their cover story before Bruce invites a family friend over, someone who could be counted on to be silent if anything goes wrong. It doesn't, to Bruce's great relief, but he spends the whole night waiting for it to anyway.

Kal's picture perfect, carefully redirecting any questions about himself back towards Bruce's guest, and by the end of the night Bruce is starting to wonder if maybe he didn't underestimate how well Kal's adapting.

But Gotham is a fickle mistress who won't stand for Bruce giving her anything less than his undivided attention, and of course someone has to kidnap a class full of middle school students in the middle of the day when Bruce is supposed to be helping Kal with his reading. He runs to the cave with a promise to make it up to him, and doesn't end up back in the manor for another day and a half. When he returns, he's got a hole in his side and is having difficulty keeping himself upright, so Alfred cleans his wounds and puts him straight to bed, turning away any guests with claims that Bruce is ill.

When Bruce wakes hours later, Kal's sitting beside his bed, his face buried in the encyclopedia Bruce gave him, slowly working his way through it. Bruce lets himself watch, eyes barely open, as Kal's eyes slowly work down the page. After years without having the option to read anything, his progress is slow but steady, but Bruce finds that he likes watching him do it anyway.

It's progress. He's getting faster every day, even without Bruce being around to help him through it.

Three or four pages later, Kal glances up to Bruce, looks back to his book, and then suddenly jerks upright.

"Bruce! You're awake."

"Just for a bit," Bruce says. He feels sore beyond reason, but right then it doesn't really _hurt._ "I didn't want to interrupt your reading."

Kal's cheeks go pink and Bruce feels the sudden urge to reach out and brush his finger across one of them. Only the fact that he was tackled into a wall by a giant lizard man the night before keeps him stationary, and Kal gets up, promising to bring food for him... and Alfred.

Alfred comes with painkillers and years of medical experience, confirming to Bruce that nothing's broken, just badly dinged up. Her prescribes bed rest for at _least_ two days, and Bruce manages to haggle him down to twenty-four hours before Alfred puts his foot down. 

Even worse, he's not allowed to just _be in his room._ Alfred wants to make absolutely sure he stays in bed, and tasks Kal with making sure Bruce doesn't try and get up (say, to go to the office and do work just like he'd planned).

The absolute last thing Bruce wants while he's laid up in bed recovering is for Kal to be sitting beside him in the great big armchair he brings in from the library, reading his book. It's impossible to ignore Kal's presence, and with nothing else to do it's hard for Bruce to not wind up passing the time staring at Kal.

He doesn't want to. He recognizes it's _weird,_ and that staring at someone like that is probably uncomfortable. But Kal doesn't seem to mind at all, his focus on the book and the book alone, and it gives Bruce so much free time to just... observe.

To note the angle of Kal's jaw. The little curl of hair right on his brow that won't stay with the rest of his hair. The blue of his eyes.

Kal is the most attractive man Bruce has ever seen, and it's killing him inside. In any other circumstance he'd pursue him without a question.

But he can't. Kal is... Kal is in a precarious position, and the absolute last thing he needs is someone in a position of power over him pursuing him. Bruce saying he'll _try not to push Kal's limits_ isn't enough. He can't imagine any situation where him pursuing Kal wouldn't be a gross abuse of trust.

So he has to settle for looking from afar and nothing else. He shouldn't even be doing that, but Bruce isn't sure he has the self control to do otherwise.

Eventually, Kal catches him staring, and rather than being embarrassed he misreads the situation.

"Did you want me to try reading it to you?" he asks. "Alfred said that was the best way to learn."

Bruce hesitates and then nods.

"Why don't you read. If I drift off... well, it's just because I'm tired, alright?"

It takes almost half an hour for Bruce to finally drift off to sleep, Kal's voice in his ears.


	11. Chapter 11

When Alfred finally lets him out of bed the following day, Bruce knows he can't put it off any longer. Kal's settled in. He's proven he's more than capable of being around strangers without issue, and Bruce no longer has an excuse for why his progress has stopped.

So when he's better (or at least better enough), Bruce takes himself down to the Batcave and settles in at the computer to work. Kal's out in the greenhouse with Alfred, helping him collect the vegetables Alfred's been neglecting, and that means Bruce will have some time to himself.

The first thing he does is the simplest. A long, long time ago he set up a behind the scenes database of his own listing out every missing person in any database in the US. Ideally, that sort of network should exist _officially,_ but there's no such thing due to legal issues. Instead, Bruce has to use his hack job database for everything, letting it populate itself through backdoor routes.

It's highly illegal, but also highly useful.

With the database pulled up, he does what he should have done weeks ago: punches in _Clark_ and sees what comes up.

In the first state the search runs through there's fifteen missing Clarks. For some, it's a first name. For others, it's a last. There's even a few _Clarkes,_ complete with e, but Bruce can't rule the possibility out considering it sounds identical. He lets the search run, the list growing longer and longer, and by the time it's done Bruce is looking at _hundreds_ of missing persons.

Kal could be any of them, or he could be none of them. There's no guarantee he's in the database, either because he wasn't reported missing at all (what police officer would believe _aliens_ took a little kid?) or because the missing person's report isn't digitized.

But he has to try.

He makes the obvious exclusions first: he excludes any entries the database has marked female, and excludes any dates of birth that would make him over 40 or under 20. After some thought, he filters based on the date the report was filed, giving him a ten year window just to be safe. It narrows the field significantly, and after that he starts going through each entry one by one.

Most are easy to exclude. Clark isn't Chinese or Pacific Islander. He doesn't have any tattoos. Eyes and hair are harder to deal with: it's entirely possible that Clark was fair haired as a child and it simply darkened as he got older, and eyes are much the same.

Which means in a lot of cases Bruce can't _completely_ exclude a given case. Clark's probably too young to be _Michael Clark,_ and probably too old to be _Clark Summers,_ but Bruce makes himself read through the files anyway. Some can be excluded for other reasons, while others have to be left in the _maybe_ pile.

He works through them as fast as he can, but it still takes hours. Hours without any half decent lead. Hours without being able to confirm anything at all.

By the time he's done, he still has forty-six case files for Kal to look at, and he's certain all of them are busts. They're from all over the country, and right then Bruce feels even more exhausted than he did when he got home from his patrol.

He shows Kal what he found after dinner.

"I went and looked at missing persons cases," Bruce says. "I wanted to know if you recognized any of these names, or any of these details."

It's a long, slow slog. He reads each name, watching for a reaction, and then shows Kal a picture and he shakes his head. Bruce doesn't discard any (Kal might not remember, after all), but he sets them in the _unlikely_ pile.

Alfred brings them tea and biscuits while they work, and even joins them for a short while. He's obviously attached to Kal and eager to help him find his family, but it's also just as obvious to Bruce that Alfred is in no hurry for Kal to actually _leave._ He clearly likes having someone else around the house, and someone else who's willing to both help _and_ learn?

All the better.

"None of this is helping I don't think," Bruce finally admits. "We should get to the end of the pile and then call it a night. I'll... figure out something else to help."

"You've already done a lot," Kal says. "Maybe..." He hesitates for a long moment, and then shakes his head. "Maybe there's nothing to find. Maybe there wasn't a report, or everyone's gone, or... or a lot of things. Just because I was from Earth doesn't mean I have some place to go back to."

"Even if there's no one there, it's still important for you to know who you were. Knowing your own history is a fundamental part of who you are. I don't want you to spend the rest of your life wondering."

"I won't wonder," Kal says. "I'll... I could be happy without it. What if it's just sad? What if everyone's gone?"

Bruce's mouth feels dry. He's having a hard time focusing on what Kal's saying, focusing instead on what he's _not_ saying. What happens to Kal if there's no home for him? Maybe he's just desperate to find out the answer to that. Maybe he wants to find out where he goes after that.

Bruce doesn't have an answer for him, and he doesn't want to.

"You should still know. Not knowing will always bother you."

Like not knowing about why his parents died. That truth had haunted him, and even if the answer hadn't been the one he wanted, it was still _a truth._

"Knowledge should never be turned away when it is offered," Alfred says, and Kal sinks back in his seat, his expression troubled.

"I'm going to keep looking," Bruce says. The alternative is thinking about _what comes next,_ and he can't stand the thought of it. Kal can stay with them, learning and improving, so long as they're still searching.

When they stop, that comes into question.

"I think I'm going to go rest," Kal says. "I'll be up in the morning to help with breakfast, Alfred."

Bruce watches Kal's back as he goes, and the slump of his shoulders breaks him.

Alfred isn't going to let what just happened go either.

"He's right," Alfred says. "What he finds at the end of his search might not be a happy thing, if you find it at all. His memories of being taken are so vague that anything could have happened. His parents could be dead, if they lived through his abduction at all. For all we know he was a runaway. There are simply too many things we don't have the answers to."

"It's my job to find them," Bruce says. He feels... sullen, and he's having a hard time getting himself under control for once. Kal does that to him: he makes it hard to focus on the things that need to be focused on in the first place. "Kal is here with us because I was the one most likely to be able to find his family."

"Master Bruce," Alfred says in the tone that Bruce has learned to fear. "In the end, the decision lies with Kal himself. If he does not wish to continue to pursue the truth, then regardless of what you think, he should be allowed to call the search to an end."

"He was just discouraged because we didn't find anything."

Alfred's _hmmmm_ is painfully telling.

"You think it's something else," Bruce says.

"You're supposed to be the world's greatest detective," Alfred says dryly. "I'm afraid if you can't find the truth for yourself, you may not be as worthy of the title as you'd like to think."

Bruce winces but stays put as Alfred excuses himself, leaving Bruce behind to stew on what was just said. Alfred's right: it's Kal's choice if he wants to pursue it or not. Just because Bruce desperately doesn't want to have to deal with what comes after doesn't change things.

Which means he needs to talk to Kal. He _should_ talk to him right then, and tell him that it's his choice. But Kal's gone to bed, Bruce reasons, and there's no reason to wake him on the off chance he's already asleep.

He'll do it in the morning, he tells himself, and knows it's a lie.


	12. Chapter 12

Bruce never gets a chance to talk about what happened with Kal the following morning because Kal beats him to it... in a very roundabout way. Bruce is just getting ready to go out on patrol when he hears someone coming down the stairs fast enough that it's most definitely _not_ Alfred coming, and when Bruce stops and turns—already in his suit—Kal freezes in place, staring at him.

"I was just about to leave," Bruce says. "If you need something, Alfred—"

"It's fine," Kal blurts. "It can wait for the morning. Or whenever you're up."

Bruce does end up leaving, but the knowledge that Kal has something important (even if it can wait) is a bit too distracting for him to be even halfway efficient about things. He's sloppy in his work, and ends up calling it a night early before someone (him or otherwise) gets seriously hurt.

Kal's asleep when he gets back, and he drops into bed immediately after showering, passing out on the spot.

He wakes not long after his normally scheduled alarm, skipping the shower in favor of simply getting changed and heading down to see if breakfast is ready. It is, sitting on the counter already hot and waiting for him, but Alfred and Kal are nowhere to be seen. Bruce eats on his own, getting more and more bothered by the fact that neither has shown up, and the moment he's done he sets the dishes in the sink and goes to find them.

It doesn't take long. Kal and Alfred are out back in the greenhouse, and it looks like Alfred's demonstrating proper potting technique as he moves things around.

"Kal," Bruce calls, and Kal looks up, clearly surprised to see him. "You wanted to talk with me?"

"Sorry Alfred," he says quickly. "I'll come back and help when I talked to Bruce about it, alright?"

"Of course. I'm sure he's very curious to hear about what you found," Alfred says, having not even stopped his potting efforts to wave.

Kal cleans himself up before heading inside, his hands stained with dirt, and even if he needs a shower Bruce doesn't press the issue. Kal looks, if not clean, then at the very least happy. He's smiling more than Bruce is used to, his hair ever so slightly tussled by the wind.

"You had something to talk to me about?"

"I've been reading that book you gave me, the one of landmarks here, and I think I recognized one."

Bruce can't tell what his emotions are doing. Is he excited he might have a lead? He should be, and yet what he's feeling absolutely does not feel like excitement. It feels like _disappointment,_ only that's all wrong, so he must just be misinterpreting it.

"Which one?"

Kal's clearly prepared for the conversation, because the book in question is just in the dining room set off to the side. Maybe he was planning to talk to Bruce over breakfast, or maybe he just didn't want to go all the way to his bedroom.

"This one," Kal says, flipping through and showing Bruce the proper page.

Bruce doesn't really recognize it. Not really. Monument Rocks seems like the kind of place he's probably seen a lot of pictures of before, but it's not like he's ever been to them. He squints his way through the _basic information_ sidebar, noting that they're located in Kansas, and then nods.

"You recognized them?"

"It was like... I remembered visiting them. I think I went there before when I was a kid, so I must have lived somewhere around there."

Kal is obviously very excited, and Bruce does what he can to match the enthusiasm, even if he doesn't feel it. Kansas. Kansas is... well, it's far enough away that they'll have to fly. It's not local at all.

It's not a place Bruce could ever just drop in and visit, because when does he ever go to _Kansas?_

"I'll get us a flight," Bruce says, which really means _I'll grab the jet._ "We can go out and take a look around the area. See if you remember anything else."

"Really? We'll just... go?"

"I don't see why not," Bruce says simply. "It seems like the fastest way to investigate. It's one of the only leads we have, and the most significant. Monument Rocks aren't like the Grand Canyon or anything... they're fairly local. I can't imagine you'd have been there if you weren't from the area."

Kal's excitement is infectious enough that Bruce lets it affect him. He lets himself feel excited despite all his reservations, letting Kal return to his work with Alfred as Bruce sets about arranging the flight. He doesn't bother thinking about flying commercial—even if he completely ignored his own issues with it, Kal's ID is fake—and it's easy enough to borrow one of Wayne Enterprise's small planes and a pilot for the day, arranging things on short notice.

They leave the following morning. Kal's excitement endures as Bruce drives them down to Gotham Airport's private terminal, pulling in and letting the valet take the car. He hasn't even packed, and he doubts the trip's going to take all that long. A day trip, no more. He's looked at the maps and frankly there's not much to see. The whole of Kansas barely has three million people in it. The largest city would barely qualify as a suburb of Gotham. The airport they're flying into—Dodge City—has only thirty thousand people.

For someone as used to the city as Bruce is, Kansas feels as alien to him as space did.

The airport they land in is small enough that it flies two flights a day, both to Denver, and nothing else. The staff there gawk at Bruce, recognizing him immediately, and he's happy he opted to stick Kal in a large sweater that hides him. As stupid as it is, he hates the idea of the media gawking at Kal, and he ushers him into the waiting vehicle he's had brought for them.

He drives himself. The whole place is just flat land. Flat land, wind turbines, and farms. The driving is some of the easiest Bruce has ever done, nothing but straight flat roads, and he gets the impression that if he fell asleep halfway down the road he could sleep a few hours before he ran out.

Kal's face is glued to the window, staring out it as he takes it all in.

"This is Kansas?"

"We're just east of Dodge City," Bruce stay as they pull out of the airport. "We're going to head up to the rock and let you take a look around, and then we'll see if there's anything else that stands out." Bruce does not have high expectations. His research into important sites in the area includes a two room casino, a statue of a cowboy, and a tiny local history museum. Unless Kal lived _in_ Dodge City, the odds that he's been to any of them are slim.

But he tries anyway. They drive the short distance up to the rocks, but there's not really much more than the rocks themselves just off a dirt road. Bruce pulls off into what amounts to the parking lot, looking up at the stones himself only briefly, and then turns his attention to Kal.

No matter how good the rocks are, his attention is focused solely on the man beside him.

Kal's face is scrunched up, his focus intense, and it's clear to Bruce that he's trying to remember something, so Bruce stays quiet. His eyes remain on the largest of the rocks as he sits in the passenger seat, and Bruce simply lets the minutes tick by, waiting for... for something. For Kal to have a realization. For Kal _not_ to have a realization. For something, fundamentally, to change.

In the end, Kal simply speaks without any sort of prompting, and Bruce actually jumps slightly with surprise.

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"I don't..." Kal makes a noise of pure frustration, reaching up to press his palms to his eyes as if trying to close out all life. "I remember. I remember being here and looking at the rocks but I can't... everything else about it is gone. I was with someone, but I can't remember who. I think I... I think I sat on the back of a truck or something and looked up at them. But... But that's it. That's all I remember. There's nothing else no matter how hard I stare."

It's almost a lead, but one that's dangling just out of reach. It's not quite a revelation, just a confirmation of what they already knew. Kal lived on Earth once upon a time, back when he was nothing more than a small boy. He probably lived somewhere in Kansas, considering he recognized such a specific monument, notable more for photographs taken of it than for people visiting it.

But there's nothing else that can really be followed up on. Kansas doesn't have a lot of people, but it's a big place, and so much of it looks identical to an outsider that Bruce doesn't think they're going to have much success just driving around. Instead, he suggest an alternative.

"Why don't we go into town and get some food," Bruce says. It's early enough they're probably still serving breakfast, and while he feels more like lunch he's learned that breakfast tends to be the safer meal to eat while out and about. "Maybe something will come back to you. Or maybe you'll recognize downtown."

Kal doesn't recognize downtown, but Bruce doesn't want to waste the effort so he remotely accesses the files he made two days before, narrowing the missing persons reports to Kansas.

There's ten, and he goes through them all with Kal as they eat, hoping for recognition that he doesn't get.

"I don't think I'm from here," Kal finally says. "None of this really seems familiar. But I guess the... the feel of it is right? I think we're looking in the right place, I juts don't think this _is_ the right place."

"The question is where to go next," Bruce says. "Kansas is a big state, and there are a lot of states nearby. It's possible someone took you on a very long trip here because the rocks were important to them, but it's impossible to say which direction or anything else from just that." He doesn't say the word _parents,_ even though that feels like the obvious conclusion. Kal was there with his parents, or maybe just one. If he was with a class for some reason he'd have remembered a lot of people, but sitting on the back of a truck? That screams _family_ to Bruce.

"We should go back to Gotham," Kal says, apparently done dwelling on it. "Maybe you could get me books on Kansas, and I could read through them? Maybe I'd recognize pictures from somewhere else, and that could help."

It's a much better idea than the two of them driving around the state, so Bruce simply nods, happy to be leaving.

They're on the way to the airport when Kal speaks again.

"I used to be angry at the sun," he says, and Bruce makes a confused noise because he has absolutely no idea how he's supposed to respond to that. "Kryptonians are supposed to get their power from yellow stars, so they kept us in dim lighting just in case. No one really understood how it all worked. And any time I really got to be out in sunlight, I was... angry, I guess. Frustrated that no matter how I stood there and soaked in it, it wasn't making me strong enough to escape."

Bruce feels an instinctive urge to reach out and rest a hand on Kal, but he forces himself to keep his hands on the wheel.

"Even if you hadn't been human, they kept a control collar on you," Bruce points out. "It wouldn't have helped you even if you were." He tries to be comforting, but he doesn't think it works. Kal simply stares off into the distance, not acknowledging Bruce at all.

Kal spends the entire flight home lost in his own head, and Bruce can't blame him a bit.


	13. Chapter 13

Bruce gets Kal a book on Kansas the same day they get back, and then immediate rethinks it. Instead, he grabs him a tablet, locks it down because he doubts Kal has much technical expertise and he doesn't want him wandering around the Manor's computer systems unsupervised, and sets him up with access to a few different _sights of Kansas_ websites. There's thousands of photos for him to go through, but Kal seems intent on chasing down the only lead they have.

Bruce is the one who gets to fill Alfred in.

"He thinks he was there with someone. He had... vague memories of sitting on a truck with someone, staring out at the rocks."

"His parents?"

"Or just one," Bruce says. "Not a group trip, anyway. But he didn't recognize anything else, so it might be a dead end."

"Or it might lead to him finding the truth," Alfred says. "At the very least he seems enthusiastic for the search now."

"I told you he was just discouraged."

Alfred makes a face at that, but doesn't push farther.

But the early enthusiasm from the trip doesn't last. Kal finishes the first batch of photos, and neither it nor the second (nor the third) show any results.

"They all... look the same to me," Kal says. "Without context, I don't... I feel like I'm missing something."

The frustration is obvious, so Bruce stops pushing. He lets Kal go back to the hobbies he enjoyed, helping Alfred with the Greenhouse whenever Alfred is available for it. Eventually, Kal starts handling things on his own, even when Alfred's doing other things.

He knows he should investigate. He knows he should look into things. But in the end he simply _doesn't._ Life is continuing even _without_ him doing anything, and he no longer feels like he needs to continue the pretense of searching desperately for the truth.

Bruce turns his attention back to work, both with Wayne Enterprises and his less than legal patrols at night. Things begin, whether he intents to or not, to fall back into a pattern. They're establishing a new baseline, so of course it falls to Alfred to disrupt it, pulling Bruce aside late one evening just before he goes out for patrol.

"Master Bruce," Alfred says quietly. "A word?"

"I was going out on patrol, Alfred," Bruce says, already pulling his cowl up. Alfred's disapproving glare is enough to make him stop, and after a few moments he reaches up, pulling the cowl back down.

"The criminals that are out on Gotham's streets will simply have to wait a few more minutes for you to dispense justice," Alfred says. "I wished to speak to you about Kal."

Bruce considers leaving right there, but there's no escaping Alfred. No matter what he does, there's no way to escape Alfred for long.

"What about?" Bruce says instead, because it's easier to lob the ball back into Alfred's court and let _him_ figure out what to say, rather than trying to guess at what he's going to bring up.

Alfred's disapproving look tells Bruce that he knows _exactly_ what he's doing, but that's not enough to make Bruce offer anything up.

"You have apparently stopped searching for any more information about Kal," Alfred says matter of factly. Even if it's true, Bruce wants to protest he's simply had other things to do. "In the past, you've pursued every mystery in your path with a single-minded determination, and yet in this case—and this case alone—you have suddenly found yourself doing no better than an overworked officer fresh from the academy."

Alfred pauses, wrinkling his nose.

"No, worse. They would at least recognize that they don't have the resources to investigate and try and find someone else to do it. You, however, will not. You are making no progress, but that isn't the issue here. I could be perfectly content with leaving things as they are. The issue here is your stubborn refusal to address the obvious facts."

"And what facts would those be?" Bruce says, and the look Alfred gives him is so scathing that Bruce actually winces, correcting himself carefully. "I don't think I'm... refusing to address any obvious facts."

"When you insisted that we investigate Kal's history, it was because as long as you were investigating, things would not change. Kal would remain here, and you would not have to address what came after. Now that you can be confident that doing nothing will maintain the status quo, you're all too happy to sit here and do nothing to continue the investigation."

Alfred's words are harsh, but Bruce can't deny that there's truth to them. He hasn't done much of anything outside of giving Kal the photos. he hasn't investigated, or asked for help, or... well, anything.

But that doesn't mean he actually wants to _talk_ about it.

"We should talk about this later."

Alfred's frown is unrelenting, and Bruce cracks first, giving in to Alfred's unspoken demand.

"He's happy here," Bruce points out. "I just don't think we need to rush him out the door."

"This isn't about that. This is about being willing to discuss with him your long term plans rather than leaving him uncertain. For someone who was literally bought and sold for the majority of his life... the ability to know and have a say in what's going to happen to him is important. That means you need to own up to the situation and sit down to speak with him about his desires. You're both adults, and you need to act like it."

Bruce isn't stupid enough to think that Kal wants to leave. He knows that Kal likes it there, and that he's comfortable with them. The issue is whether or not Kal _should_ leave.

And Bruce, whether he admits it or not, absolutely doesn't want him to.

"He should... even if we can't find his family, he should have his own life," Bruce says, his voice strained. "He should have a life outside of us, whether he can... where he can build functional relationships—"

Alfred's response is almost painfully exasperated.

"Master Bruce, why do I get the impression that you're starting this entire conversation with the assumption that Kal _must_ leave the manor?"

"Because he has to," Bruce says desperate, and then, without thinking, he makes himself continue. He can't not. If he thinks about it, he'll never say it, and Alfred won't understand. "He was— He was a _slave,_ Alfred. He was bought and sold and used, and he deserves to... to have his freedom. To be a whole person who can choose what he wants."

"And why, exactly, could he not do that here?" Alfred asks, raising an eyebrow. "I must say I am quite fond of him, and he's clearly quite fond of us as well."

"That's why," Bruce says. "He can't stay here because I'm... because I'm _fond_ of him. Because if I... if he stayed here I would make him uncomfortable, and after everything he's been through Kal shouldn't have the pressure of knowing someone near him wants him... that... way."

He can't even _say_ it. He's too disgusted with himself, and right then all he wants is to go out into the city and work through his feelings.

"You are, right at this very moment, committing a grave sin without even realizing it," Alfred says, and then after a brief moment he reaches out, resting a hand on Bruce's arm. "Master Bruce, you cannot make his decisions for him. Just because you _feel_ that you're acting in Kal's best interest doesn't give you the right to make that choice for him. You _must_ allow Kal to make his own decisions."

"But I—" Bruce has to stop himself, pulling himself together after a moment as he takes a deep breath. "I can't put him in that position. He would—"

"He _might_ feel obligated, I agree," Alfred says. "But Kal has already shown he is made of much sturdier stuff than you seem to expect. I am confident that even if he _did_ feel obligated, if he disliked you, he would simply turn you down politely."

Bruce wishes the thought of that didn't hurt so bad. He's spent too long trying desperately to ignore the way he looks at Kal, and now that it's out there—now that he knows and Alfred knows (or knew, from what Bruce can tell)—he can't ignore it any longer.

"I'll... I'll speak to him tomorrow," Bruce says.

This time, at the very least, it isn't a lie.


	14. Chapter 14

Bruce doesn't quite know how he's supposed to be feeling when he goes to find Kal. Nervous? Apprehensive? A part of him feels emboldened by Alfred's lecture, but it's not as easy as simply hearing _alright, go tell him_ and simply doing so.

He has to find the right words. He has to find the right way to balance a confession that maybe—just maybe—he might have feelings for Kal.

But at the same time, those feelings don't mean anything. There's no obligation in them, no requirement. Just because Bruce has feelings doesn't mean Kal has to return them, and if he wants to leave then he has every right to.

But Bruce doesn't want that, which is why it's so keenly important that Bruce figure out a way to explain things to Kal. To make sure he isn't uncomfortable.

He's still trying to find the right words when he finally finds Kal (not in the library, or in his room, or anywhere in the kitchens), and what he sees makes his entire train of thought slam to a halt.

Kal's in the ballroom, staring at the painting of Bruce's parents. Of all the art in the house, that painting is the most important, oversized and majestic, absolutely dominating any room it's placed in. Bruce has had to move it a half dozen times to find the right place, because the ballroom is the perfect level of out of the way without feeling like he's actually hiding it. The ballroom is a place of importance, after all, it's just not a place where he goes regularly.

So technically speaking, there's nothing wrong with Kal wandering into the dining room to take a look at the painting. It's important. Significant. In any other circumstance, Bruce would be happy to talk to Kal about the painting, to tell him all about what sort of amazing people his parents were.

But right then Kal isn't staring up at the painting. Bruce can't just walk up and stand beside him because Kal isn't on the ground. Kal is, by Bruce's estimate, fifteen feet off the ground, staring at the painting with a look of awe from eye level.

Despite all his training, Bruce can't stop himself from making a small sound of surprise, and Kal's head jerks around, searching for him. Of course he can't find Bruce, because Bruce is well below him, and it takes him a second to orient himself and figure out where Bruce is.

The first thought Bruce has is that Kal's _always_ been able to fly (because, realistically, that's what he's doing). That he's been hiding it for some reason or another that Bruce can't quite work out.

But when Kal looks at him, his expression is one of obvious confusion, like he's just as bewildered to find himself flying as Bruce is.

Kal is many things, and while he's good at being discreet, he's never struck Bruce as a particularly cunning liar.

"You're flying," Bruce points out, trying to sound as relaxed and normal as he can.

"I... yes?" Kal says, staring straight down. His focus is obvious, and then he ever so slowly starts to descend, clearly having to put in a real effort to stop himself from dropping like a stone. "I guess I... I guess I am."

Bruce doesn't say anything else until Kal's feet finally are on the floor, and only then does he raise an eyebrow, waiting for Kal to volunteer some kind of an explanation for what he just witnessed.

"I didn't—" Kal starts, having to stop and pull himself together. His disorientation is obvious, which makes it harder and harder for Bruce to really believe that he was hiding it the whole time or anything like that. "I don't know how that happened."

"I got that impression."

"I just... I was looking at the painting and I wanted to look closer and I kind of... lost focus, I think. I just— I didn't even realize I was so high. It was like I pushed myself up onto my toes and then I just kept going."

The whole thing—the fact that Kal can apparently _fly_ —invites a number of questions that Bruce isn't quite sure how to handle. Somewhere along the line he's made a mistaken assumption, but where?

"This... You can fly," Bruce says. The oldest trick in the book is to go back and restate the information you know for sure and work from there. "Humans can't fly, which means there's only two possibilities. Either the process they tried to use on you to make you a synthetic Kryptonian did a lot more than make you weak to Kryptonite, or you—" Bruce has to stop himself, trying to wrap his head around it.

Because Kal can't be a Kryptonian. The logic simply doesn't hold. Kal has memories of being on Earth. He speaks English. So how is it possible that he could be a Kryptonian at all?

"Or I'm a Kryptonian," Kal finishes for him. "But... isn't there a way to check?"

Bruce actually doesn't know, but he can find out.

"Kryptonians are supposed to have enhanced strength and durability. If you're empowered enough to fly, the same should be true of the rest of the Kryptonian power set. What we need to do is take a sample and see how it compares to a human baseline."

It's easier to handle things by sinking back into being _Batman._ Batman knows what to do. Batman can look at the situation, assess it calmly, and figure out what needs to be done. Batman doesn't have to worry about what this _means._ Batman doesn't have to realize that if Kal is a Kryptonian, it means he should be back on Oa, not on Earth.

Kal follows him down into the cave even if he clearly doesn't like it down there, and Bruce realizes he's already gone back on his plan not to make Kal go down there. He hesitates, then stops, turning around and gesturing for Kal to go back up.

"Sit in the living room," he says. "I'll bring the supplies up to you."

Even if it's more work running things back and forth, letting Kal be comfortable during the process seems important. Kal doesn't go right away though, staring down at him with obvious concern before nodding and heading back up the stairs.

Bruce grabs the basics—alcohol swabs and needles and everything he'll need to take a blood sample—and heads to the living room. If Alfred catches wind of Bruce performing any sort of medical task on Alfred's pristine couch he'll get a firm talking to, but Bruce is also certain that Alfred will understand in the long run.

"Alright," Bruce says. "I'm going to take a blood sample and then run it through the systems downstairs. It should be able to, at the minimum, tell me if you're working off a human baseline."

"How long will that take?"

"I have no idea," Bruce admits as he preps the needle. "If your genetics are completely non-human, it'll reject the sample immediately. If you're human, it would probably take a lot longer. All we can do is try it and wait.."

He ties Kal's arm off, asks him to sit still, and then finds a vein.

The problem is that when he tries to pierce the vein he simply can't. The tip of the needle scrapes across Kal's flesh like Bruce is trying to get blood from a stone.

The correct thing to do would be to pull back and take another shot at it. Instead, Bruce attempts again at haste, and the tip of the needle literally snaps.

Crap.

"I got it," Kal says, bending down to retrieve the tip, which he holds up like it _isn't_ literally the tip of a needle.

"Well," Bruce mutters to himself, trying not to be irritated. "I suppose that tells us whether you have the full Kryptonian power set."

It's not like he needs to test super-strength. Kal can fly and he's seemingly invulnerable. If he is an experiment (and Bruce is trying desperately to hold on to that possibility), then...

He can't even try and puzzle it out himself. It doesn't make any sense. If the smugglers had figured out a way to turn humans into Kryptonians so effectively, they wouldn't have stopped. They've have mass produced Kryptonians and walked away filthy rich. The only explanation that makes any sense if the one where Kal is a Kryptonian, no matter how much he wants to deny it.

So he makes himself say it. He makes himself say the words out loud because he can't keep denying it any longer.

"You're a Kryptonian."

"But that doesn't make sense," Kal says. He almost sounds _upset,_ but Bruce isn't sure if he's just projecting. "I remembered the rocks. I speak English. I was... I remember sitting on the truck with someone. I can't be a Kryptonian."

"If a pack of alien smugglers had the ability to make humans into Kryptonians, they absolutely would. There'd be no reason for them not to have. The fact is that you're a Kryptonian. There must be... There's probably an explanation for why you can speak English."

For all he knows, Kryptonians are multilingual at birth, but he's pretty sure if that were _actually_ true, the Lanterns would have known about it.

"No," Kal says firmly. "I remember what I remember. I know I sat and looked at those rocks with someone. I remember... I remember all the little details. The truck bed and the way the sky looked, and it was all right. I know that's right."

Bruce is silent, turning everything he knows over in his head. There are so many details, but it's like someone's thrown together two different puzzles. The pieces are so different he doesn't even think they're from the same puzzle, and he has no idea what the final form will look like.

He just needs something else. He just need a clue. A glimpse of what he should be aiming for.

"I know I'm right," Kal says, and it's clear to Bruce that he's pleading with Bruce as much as he is with reality itself. "I know that was real. Isn't there a way for me to be both?"

Bruce almost says no. No, there aren't any Kryptonians on Earth.

And then he thinks about it, and sees, for the first time, the big picture.

"Yes," he says. "Yes there is."

Bruce takes off to the cave, and Kal goes after him, even as Bruce tries to tell him it's fine to stay. He knows exactly what he's looking for, and he doesn't have time to stop as he practically flies down the stairs to the cave, heading for the computer.

He doesn't bother trying verbal commands. They're too slow. Instead, his fingers fly across the keyboard, pulling up aerospace records as far back as he has them, and narrowing things down.

Aerospace isn't really his area of expertise. It's much more of a _Hal_ thing if he's being honest. But the records are all still open to him, and it's easy enough for him to flip back.

He picks out Kansas and neighboring states, punches in the correct date range, and then flags any unexplained cases of atmospheric entry.

It takes him less than five minutes to find what he's looking for.

"This one," Bruce says. Kal's standing just over his shoulder, starting up at the screen as he does, but Bruce isn't clear how much he's following. "Thirty years ago, something small survived entry into Kansas. They believed it was a meteor, but they never located the landing sight and it was flagged as suspicious. Considering the date range, the possibility that it was a rocket was examined, but never confirmed."

"I... I'm not sure I follow," Kal says.

Bruce leans forward, tapping the screen where it shows the relevant report. There's no photos, and the report itself is brief, but it feels like actual canon evidence of the theory that came to mind.

"This is a report from thirty years ago. Based on this, something small—like a rocket or a meteor—crash landed in Kansas. They never found where it landed, and technology wasn't advanced enough for them to guess where it came down. And I bet if I look..."

He's already looking, searching for any sort of data a few years ahead. He finds it almost immediately, flagged in red by the system as _highly suspicious._

"Here," Bruce says. "Six years later, something flagged the US's missile tracking systems. They calculated it came from too high an angle to have been launched on Earth, but they didn't have time to investigate it. Six minutes later, something leaves the atmosphere not far away, heading off into space like someone just launched a rocket. This was classified for years and considered highly suspicious, but nothing ever came of it."

"You think... you think that first one is me, and the second one is...?"

"Is when you were taken. Based on how long things were... I think you _are_ a Kryptonian. You were sent to Earth, arrived, and hidden here by someone. Then someone found you—" He taps at the screen. "—and took you back."

"The slavers. I... I remember them coming, but I always thought that was on Krypton. There was a field... I remembered—" Kal pauses, reaching up to rub at his temples. "It's hard. It's all... blurred together."

"Human memory is faulty even in ideal scenarios. Trying to remember something might have convinced you something happened that didn't, so try not to stress about it. It's entirely possible that something completely different from what you remembered happened. But what matters is that this is a lead we can follow. The question now is... how did they find you?"

Right then, that feels like the most important question, but it's far from the only one.

Because six minutes isn't much time at all, and Bruce is going to make absolutely sure he finds out what happened in that time.


	15. Chapter 15

Bruce has always worked best by being organized, so that afternoon he makes sure that he is.

He puts together every bit of evidence they have, organizing it as neatly as he can. He marks each with a color: green is confirmed. Yellow has evidence towards it. Red is speculation.

Only once he's got every bit of information laid out does he go and fetch Alfred to test his theory. Alfred's always been good at pointing out errors in his logic or poking holes, and he's as invested in Kal's well being as Bruce is right then.

"I'll start with the basics," Bruce says, tapping a yellow patch. "We believe Kal is Kryptonian, not a human experiment like we originally thought. He displays both flight and enhanced durability—" Alfred's eyebrows shoot up at that, and it's obvious Kal hasn't yet told him that part. "—and the actions of the slavers who captured him don't fit with a group that had the capability to make more Kryptonians. There's no reason for them not to repeat the process if it worked, and what happened with Kal obviously _did_ work."

"So he isn't from Earth?" Alfred asks, looking more perplexed than he was when they first pulled him into the living room.

"That's where this theory comes in," Bruce says, tapping another yellow square. "We know Krypton was destroyed around thirty years ago. Kal would fit for being around thirty, but that's not exactly strong evidence. What _is_ strong evidence is this."

Bruce taps the green piece of evidence, and the military's documents pop up. "Thirty years ago that US military detected an unexplained atmospheric entry. At the time, technology wasn't as sophisticated as it is today, but the numbers they pulled were consistent with a small rocket or meteor. They never managed to locate what came down, despite an investigation."

"Compelling, but far from proof," Alfred points out, so Bruce moves to the next green spot.

"This is the most obvious piece of evidence. Kal was, by his estimate, seven or eight when he was taken. Definitely not a baby, since he remembers it. That would fit perfectly with this." He taps the screen, pulling up the record. "Six years after the last, something arrived in Kansas. The military believed it was a rocket, but then something left only a few minutes later before they could even get their jets there in time. It was considered a UFO, and nothing was ever verified about the situation."

"You think those were the slavers?"

"It would make sense. All they had to do was fly down and scoop Kal up."

"How did they find him?"

"Unclear," Bruce says, tapping a number of red squares. "It's possible but unlikely they have a way to track Kryptonians. A more likely theory that I'm investigating is that Kal might have landed with some kind of beacon. The ship he landed on, or an external one, which was probably intended to let other Kryptonians find him if they survived the destruction of their planet."

"Only a slaver found him first."

"So it would seem," Bruce confirms. "If this is true, we might have the answer to all our questions. We'll know both how the slavers found Kal, but we'll also know how they found Earth."

"You think they're the same group?"

"Or the first group sold the information to the one that's currently operating. Either way, I think there's a connection between the two."

"If nothing else, your theory is worth investigating," Alfred agrees. "The question I would pose is... how do you plan to investigate it? Even assuming everything you've said is true, the point of entry still gives you an absolutely massive area to search inside. I simply don't see any way for you to narrow it down and actually confirm your theory."

"The first option is easy enough. I doubt it'll bear any fruit, but it's worth checking anyway. It's entirely possible that the Lanterns are aware of a frequency that a Kryptonian emergency beacon would broadcast on. If I could check with them..."

It's as good a place to start as any, so Bruce uses his usual methods to contact the Guardians. He's expecting to get one of the ones that handles communications—maybe Salaak—but instead he gets Hal almost immediately.

"Oh, Bruce!" Hal says, looking far too enthusiastic to see him. From what Bruce knows about Hal, that means he's _very_ bored, and he's probably been forced to act as a glorified secretary rather than running around punching evil aliens because he did something. "How's it going with Kal?"

Kal takes the opportunity to lean into frame, waving at Hal enthusiastically.

"Oh!" Hal says, looking surprised. "Well, that makes it easier. How's it going?"

"I need some information from you," Bruce says, trying to get to the point. "Do Kryptonians have a standardized emergency frequency or anything similar?"

"You mean like for distress calls? Let me check, because I can't say I know off the top of my head. They definitely don't have one _now,_ anyway."

"I'm looking at historically," Bruce confirms. "One that might have been used around the time Krypton was destroyed."

"Alright, I'll be the one to ask... why? You've got a lead or something...?"

"I'm a Kryptonian," Kal says helpfully, and Hal makes a noise of confusion, looking to Bruce for an explanation.

"He's a Kryptonian," Bruce confirms, because Kal's right, and realistically it's his truth to tell. "I found records of something entering Earth's atmosphere at a time that would be right around the destruction of Krypton. I think he arrived on Earth in something like an escape pod."

"And him getting off planet...?"

"There was a record from six years later that seems to line up with an abduction. My theory is that the ship might have had some kind of beacon the slavers followed."

"It's a good theory," Hal says. "It would make a lot of sense, and it would fit in with what we know."

"Did you find something new?" Kal asks. He's leaning in so he can see the screen, and that puts him _right_ beside Bruce. It's, to say the least, very distracting, even if Bruce is trying to be professional about it.

"Well, we got the guys who sold you, for one. We snagged a bunch of people including at least three humans who should be back on Earth already."

"Why didn't I hear about this?"

"None of them were from Gotham," Hal counters. "You've been pretty blunt about where your priorities lie."

Bruce tries not to grumble _too_ obviously, and Kal takes the lead on that.

"Did you find who's behind it...?"

"Taking apart the entire Kryptonian smuggling operation isn't going to be quick or easy, because there's multiple groups. But we think it's just one group that's providing all the humans, so that at least is something we can deal with. Guy's out there chasing it down now, so hopefully we'll have something for you soon."

Bruce sure as hell hopes so.

"You were looking into signals...?"

"Oh right. Hold on just a second."

Bruce is put on the intergalactic equivalent of call waiting as Hal goes to check in, and Bruce sinks back into his seat, turning everything over in his head. Everything seems right. Everything fits together smoothly. It's just a matter of confirming his theories, and then...

And then whatever comes after.

Bruce just isn't sure he's ready for that.


	16. Chapter 16

Hal doesn't take too long before he returns with the information they need, complaining about his coworkers the whole while. As much as Bruce generally hates that kind of conversation, right then he doesn't hate it as much as he should. Every second Hal is talking about what Salaak thinks of the new scan protocols is a second he has to try and think things through. Every extra second is precious, because Bruce can't help but feel that he's on top of an out of control train that's barreling towards a brick wall.

They're going to find out the truth. They're going to learn who Kal is.

The thought of finally getting the answers they've been seeking since before Kal even arrived on the planet makes Bruce feel queasy.

Hal finally gets to the point, and the results are positive: Kryptonian distress signals do exist, but they're almost never used anymore.

"Poachers definitely know about them," Hal confirms. "Anyone who used one of these today would get picked up almost immediately by the kind of people you _don't_ want finding you."

"Send it over anyway," Bruce says. "It's possible that the signal is being used on Earth, and that was how they found us in the first place."

"Sending."

"I'll keep you in the loop," Bruce says, and it's as close to a promise as he's willing to give. He confirms the data that Hal's sent is good, and then signs off as normal.

The silence once Hal's gone feels like a weight on his shoulders as Bruce gets to work. Just having the data isn't enough—he needs to build something that will recognize the signal in the event it's broadcast, and no ordinary human radio is going to do.

Kal stands silently behind him as Bruce gets to work, and Bruce tries desperately not to pay any attention to him _or_ the silence he brings with him.

"...Bruce?"

"I'll work on this overnight," Bruce says. "The faster I can set this up, the faster you can get your answers."

Kal doesn't answer, and the silence feels like an ever-expanding gulf opening up between them.

He feels sick at the idea that he was going to confess to him only an hour earlier. In retrospect, it feels like an impossible selfish thing to do. Kal has things he should be worrying about, _real_ problems, and burying him under Bruce's own emotional issues is inconsiderate if described in the kindest possible terms.

"Bruce," Kal says, and it's no longer a question. Bruce goes stiff in his chair, mourning the loss of his cowl, but does turn around to look at Kal.

Kal's expression is hard to read, the look on his face a confused muddle. Is he happy he might get answers? Afraid of what those answers might be?

"I—" Kal hesitates for so long that Bruce feels like he's drowning, finally cutting in just to have someone saying _something,_ even if it's not what he actually wants to say.

"We can talk when we figure this out," Bruce says. "There isn't any point in having any serious conversations until we get to the bottom of this."

It's as close as he's willing to get to a confession right then, and Kal hesitates for a moment and then nods.

Bruce is just happy Kal nodded at all. It means he can put it off. It means he doesn't have to think about how things are going to play out right then.

"I... I'm going to go see if Alfred needs any help," Kal says. A part of Bruce suspects that it isn't the truth—that Kal is going to have some time alone to process—but it doesn't really matter.

They both need time to themselves. They both need to think things through. So Bruce simply nods again and lets Kal go. He allows himself on a few moments to adjust—to let it all sink in— and then Bruce makes himself take a deep breath, sits upright in his chair, and gets back to working on the scanner.

He's left alone for hours. He pays no attention to the time, giving one hundred percent of his attention to the intricate piece of technology in front of him as it slowly takes shape. He only knows time has passed when Alfred arrives with breakfast and a very stern look.

"I must insist you sleep, Master Bruce."

"I need to get this done," Bruce says simply. "The faster I can figure this out, the faster Kal can get his answers."

"The faster you sleep, the faster _I_ can sleep," Alfred says dryly. "You may not be aware of it, but between this and your nightly activities, I fear you might be greatly sleep deprived."

Bruce shoots him an unimpressed look, but Alfred meets it in kind.

"Are you aware you've been tightening the same bolt for the better part of ten minutes? I'm afraid it's well and truly stripped."

Bruce doesn't want to stop. He wants to finish the project and be done with it, but he can't entirely deny what Alfred is saying. He's wasting time being sleep deprived.

Not that sleep comes easily when he does head up to his room. He lays in bed, staring up at the ceiling and trying not to think at all.

By the time he gets to sleep it's long past noon, and he only wakes after dinner. Alfred has something ready for him, but Kal is nowhere to be seen.

Bruce tries not to ask. He really does.

But he asks anyway.

"Is Kal around...?"

"He's out in the greenhouse, tending to the plants. Unlike you, he opted to sleep at a normal enough hour."

Bruce contemplates going out, and in the end chooses work: he returns to the cave to finish the device.

It takes only another thirty minutes for him to finish, and he knows that if he'd stayed up it would have taken hours.

He doesn't hesitate to test it, but regrets it immediately. The moment he flips the switch, the small detector _screams_ so loudly Bruce has to immediate turn it off, his ears ringing.

Which means it detected the signal, just at a magnitude far greater than he expected. Bruce takes a moment to think about it and realizes the mistake in his logic: any signal from earth that was being detected in the reaches of space would have to be _much_ more powerful than something being detected locally. With that in mind, he hastens to tweak the scale of the detection to be more useful.

What matters is the direction of the source, not the power of it. He already knows the signal is there, and with the strength of it, he already knows it's somewhere on Earth. With that in mind, it's easy to adjust the detector to do what he needs.

When he turns it on, there's no blaring scream, just a quiet, consistent beeping as he rotates around.

It beeps most strongly when he faces west, which seals the deal. With more time and effort, he could probably rig up a more sophisticated detector. He could overlay it with a map and get an approximate location. But there's no need for that. Not when he can simply take the one he made and follow it to the answer.

The answer he doesn't want, but knows he'll have to face.


	17. Chapter 17

Bruce dreads having to talk to Kal about what happened. About what's going to happen.

So it feels like he's been granted mercy when he doesn't have to. He takes the device upstairs and shows Alfred, who shoos him off to bed early. Even though he just slept, he's still tired, and he sleeps better the second time around.

The following morning, Kal's already ready to go, and it seems that Alfred's taken the liberty of informing him of what's happening.

"So you know it works?" Kal asks over breakfast.

"I tested it," Bruce confirms. "The theory is sound, and some early tests showed positive results. There's no way to know for sure until we're actually using it, but worst comes to worst I'll bring my tools with us and I can adjust it in the field."

"When do we go?"

"I've taken the liberty of informing the jet that you'd be leaving today," Alfred says. "You'll leave in an hour."

Having Alfred making the decision makes it easy for him, so Bruce simply nods and excuses himself to pack. He has no idea how long they'll be there, but he wants to be prepared on the off chance he has to stay one or two days.

That's all he can afford, really. He can't be away from Gotham for too long, but he also can't imagine not dealing with Kal's situation now that they're so close. So two days (at the most) will simply have to do.

Two days to find out the truth.

They take the plane in silence, and it occurs to Bruce that there's a level of irony in taking a plane to Kansas when Kal can simply fly. He hasn't actually flown since Bruce found him by the portrait, or at least not that Bruce has seen, and all of a sudden that sticks out to Bruce. It feels _important._

"Kal?"

Kal makes a noise of acknowledgement, but doesn't turn his head.

"Have you flown since I found out...?"

Maybe it's too personal a question, because Kal shifts in place, not answering right away. Bruce is strongly considering retracting the question entirely when Kal finally answers.

"No."

Bruce weighs his options and decides not to ask why, simply nodding and turning away.

They hit the ground running when they land. Just like last time, there's a car waiting for them at the small airport, and Bruce climbs right in, pulling out the detector and getting to work. He's sure the people at the airport must think he's off on another _billionaire Bruce Wayne_ adventure, and he supposes that the entire trip is only going to add to his public persona in a way that helps him.

Bruce fiddles with the detector and eventually settles on northwest. Kal is almost completely silent as they get going, and Bruce can't even _begin_ to guess what he's thinking. Is he worried? Anxious? Excited? Kal's face is a blank wall, impossible to read as he stares out the car window, watching the fields go by.

The first break from the silence is when Kal abruptly sits up, pressing his face against the window.

"I know that windmill."

Bruce cranes his neck to look out the window, but there's not much to see. Way off in the distance there's a windmill, he supposes, but it looks like every other windmill he's ever seen.

"Is it important?"

Kal's expression is suddenly readable as his face scrunches up, clearly thinking hard about it.

"Maybe," he says, and then after a second changes his mind. "No. It's just a familiar sight. I must have driven this way before."

Bruce heads towards it anyway, stopping on the side of the road near it as he gets a new heading for them. He keeps track, in very general terms, of where they've been and where they're going, but the only thing that really matters is that they're not looping back, and they aren't. They're wandering a bit as the roads wind back and forth, but they're headed in one general direction.

Bruce wants to imagine they're getting closer. They've been driving for three—almost four—hours, and Bruce is starting to regret rushing into things. He checks his phone and finds that the nearest fast food place is more than an hour's drive away, so he's force to scrounge in the glove box, finding a granola bar that they split. Someone at rental agency who had more sense than he did has thought to provide water bottles, so at least there's that.

"Any of this ringing any bells?" Bruce asks as they turn down yet another nearly identical country road.

"Not really," Kal admits. "From the road it all looks... well, pretty similar."

Bruce starts to wonder if he's wasting his time when, ten minutes after the last signal, he realizes they've overshot it. It means they're close, and he pulls out a tablet, pulling up a map and marking off their current location and the indicated direction.

"We're going to have to do a spiral," he explains. "Circling inward until we find the place."

The roads they're driving feel like a more complex puzzle than anything the Riddler's ever put out. They don't make any _sense._ Every time he thinks he's got a bead on them he finds another poorly marked dirt road that isn't on the map that only makes things _more_ confusing.

But they're getting closer. Bruce can feel it even _without_ looking at the maps. There's a tension in the air, and it's impossible to miss the way Kal is sitting up just a little bit straighter every time they turn.

And then, without a word, Kal reaches out and grab's Bruce's arm. Bruce knows what that means, and he eases the car off to the side of the dirt road they're on, turning to look at Kal.

Kal looks afraid, and Bruce can't blame him for it. He's about to find out the truth about _everything._ About where he's from. About who he is. About which memories are real and which ones are just things he imagined.

Not all too long ago, Kal didn't even know _to_ wonder about those things.

Bruce gets out of the car, and Kal follows suit. He shoves the detector in a bag and slings it over his shoulder, but he knows they can't be far. Not with the way Kal's acting, stiff as a board and staring off into the horizon. Bruce has to nudge him forward to get him going, but once he has, Kal obviously knows where he's going.

"Kal," Bruce calls, reaching out and catching his wrist. Kal stops immediately, turning to look over his shoulder at Bruce, his expression lost. "No matter what we find, this doesn't change anything."

He doesn't know what compels him to say those words. He just knows that they're _right._

Kal will always have a home, even if the one in front of him isn't it.

Kal stares at him and then nods, turning back towards the farm. He knows, Bruce realizes. Even if until that point Bruce had never said it, Kal still _knows._

They walk. The farm they've parked outside isn't the one Kal ends up going to, but the one beyond that. It's late in the afternoon, probably sometime after four, and Bruce feels like he's dying as they walk up the road. He can run around Gotham in a skin-tight suit all night without issue, but the suit he's walking in—nothing but the finest for Bruce Wayne—was _not_ meant to be hiked in.

"This one," Kal says quietly as they approach. It's a simple enough farmhouse, a barn out back. The field are filled with some sort of plant that's just starting to sprout. Bruce has no idea what it is, but he can't help but feel that Kal probably does.

Bruce's eyes linger on the barn. He knows he should be focused on the house, but the barn seems so _obvious,_ and when he fishes the detector out, his suspicion is confirmed.

"The signal's coming from inside the barn," Bruce says simply. "Whatever is transmitting is in there."

But it doesn't matter. Neither of them is paying any attention to the barn. What is transmitting the signal is a problem for later, and Kal only has eyes for the small farmhouse in front of them.

His home. The place he grew up. There's a truck parked outside, and signs of life all around. There's a welcome mat and when Bruce thinks to look for it, a mailbox not far from them.

 _The Kents,_ it says.

 _Clark Kent,_ Bruce's brain fills in. That's probably Kal's name. His real name, the one he was raised with, and the one that was taken from him when _he_ was taken.

Bruce just isn't sure he's ready for the truth.


	18. Chapter 18

Bruce isn't sure how long they stand there, staring up at the farmhouse. Clark should make the first move, but he doesn't. He just stands there and stares as the sun slowly sinks towards the horizon.

Bruce is content to let him stay there forever. Right then they're on the cusp, but it hasn't happened yet. The door is still closed, the bell still unrung. As long as they stand there, nothing's changed. Kal is still Kal, not _Clark_ or _Kent_ or _Clark Kent._

As long as they stand there, Kal is still _his._

But that isn't right.

Kal is his own person, and he deserves, maybe more than anyone, to know the truth. To know if the people who raised him are alive. To know what happened. To make his own choices.

"You should knock."

"I can't," Kal says immediately, still staring up at the door. "What if they're—"

He doesn't finish the sentence, but Bruce knows what he means anyway. Kal doesn't know what happened the night he was taken. The people who raised him might be dead, killed by the same poachers who took him. He doesn't know, and in the same way that Bruce is hesitating because the answer might take Kal away, Kal is hesitating because the answer might take his _hope_ away.

So Bruce makes himself do it. Kal is silent, standing stock still as Bruce approaches the house. The porch is old and worn and creaks under his weight, and he's sure that anyone inside must know he's coming just from that. He's proven right when the door opens only a moment after he knocks.

The woman inside has to be pushing seventy, old but far from frail. She looks up at Bruce with clear scrutiny, and doesn't even waste a second.

"I'd say it's nice to meet you, Mr. Wayne, but I'm more than a bit confused about what you're doing on my front porch in the middle of Kansas. This isn't exactly your usual sort of place."

He isn't surprised she knows who he is. Bruce has long ago come to terms with the fact that almost everyone knows who he is.

"Are you Mrs. Kent?" He already has a list of questions in mind, and he simply works through them in order of importance.

"That's me."

"How long have you lived here?"

"My husband's family owned this farm before he was even born. If you're here to buy, we aren't selling." The look she gives him is decidedly uncharitable, and Bruce has to wonder how many people have tried to buy the land out from under them.

Those two questions have given him all the answers he needs, though. This is her. This is the woman who raised Kal.

He just doesn't know what to do with that information. He doesn't know what he could possibly say that would _explain._

So he simply steps out of the way.

All of a sudden Mrs. Kent has a clear line of sight right out the door, across the porch, and down the front path.

All of a sudden, Mrs. Kent has a clear line of sight to _Kal,_ who stands at the end of that path, his hands twisting together in front of him as he stares up at her.

Bruce feels like he's a voyeur, watching something he shouldn't be. Something personal and private. It's the way her hand comes up to cover her mouth as she recognizes the boy she must have raised as her son for years. It's the quiet little gasp, the way Kal's shoulders hunch forward. Bruce can't stop himself from averting his eyes, looking away as Kal approaches.

He doesn't want to look. He doesn't want to see. He should be happy for him, but it's all a bit too much.

Kal thought his parents were dead, and now he's getting them back, and Bruce knows he'll have get the same experience. He will never have the happy reunion Kal is getting, and watching it is like staring directly into the sun.

He can't do it.

He barely registers as Kal embraces the small woman in the doorway. He hardly notices as someone else—probably _Mr._ Kent—emerges from the back of the house to join the hug. He doesn't let himself think of the tears that are being shed or the silent sobs, so similar and yet so different from the sobs he remembers.

The only thing that breaks him out of it is Kal's hand on his arm, his voice as soft as ever.

"Bruce. Why don't you come inside? You can meet them."

He doesn't know how long it's been, and he doesn't really care. He follows Kal inside the way he knows that he always wood, stepping into the old but well loved farmhouse. There's a living room with a couch, and Kal sits on it, flanked on both sides by his doting parents who can't seem to get enough of him. Every time one asks a question, Kal can barely answer before the other is wanting his attention back, making his head turn back and forth constantly.

Bruce sits in an armchair across from them, only half watching. This is a happy ending, he reminds himself. Kal's parents are alive. He's been reunited with them. They'll live together and be happy and he has absolutely _nothing_ to be upset about.

He's upset anyway. He feels like someone's shoved a hand into his chest and torn out his heart. Kal will stay here. If he comes back to the manor at all, it will only be to get his things, and Bruce doesn't know how to handle that. He's gotten used to Kal's presence, not just in the manor, but in his life. He's used to waking up and finding him at the table. He's used to seeing him out in the gardens.

And now he's already gone.

They ask Kal—Clark—for the story, and he tells it to them. Not all the horrible details, but something close enough to the truth. About being taken. About living in space a million miles past the sun they're so familiar with. When they ask how he managed to make it back, he looks to Bruce, clearly unsure of how to answer.

"I'm Batman," Bruce says simply, because in his opinion that explains everything that needs to be explained.

Apparently the Kent's are of the same opinion, because they nod knowingly, suddenly understanding.

And then they explain their side of things.

"We thought it was your family," Martha says, long after she's poured drinks for the both of them and tried to ply them with so many snacks that even Alfred would be appalled. "We thought... well, we only knew in general terms why you'd been sent here at all, and we thought they were your people. That someone had come to rescue you. Maybe the planet hadn't been destroyed. So when it happened—when we looked out and there was a ship in the sky and it looked like you were flying up to it... We just assumed they'd come to take you home."

"Sure, we were upset we didn't have a chance to say goodbye, but it's not as if we could really have a say in that sort of thing," Jonathan says, his eyes bouncing between Clark and Bruce in equal measure. "We didn't know much of anything about aliens. Still don't."

"There was no way you could have known," Bruce says, and it feels so easy to let Bruce slip away. This is Batman business, and there's still a chance they might be able to use this to find the people who were taken from Gotham. "It's understandable why you wouldn't want to contact anyone about this."

"Oh Clark," Martha says, reaching up to rest her hand on her son's cheek. "You've grown up so much. You're so _big!_ You were hardly up to your father's waist when you were taken."

Probably an exaggeration, but the sort of one that's probably true to Martha anyway.

"We're so happy you're back. We're so happy you're okay. We thought... well, we thought we'd never hear from you again. That you were off in space with your real family."

"You _are_ my real family," Clark says immediately. "You raised me. All my childhood memories are of you. That was how we found you! I remembered Monument Rocks. I remembered going up to see them and... and sitting on the back of the truck."

"That was a long time ago," Jonathan says, but his eyes are wet again. "Can't believe you remembered that little trip. First time I ever took you with me to sell at the farmer's market, so I thought I'd show you something amazing."

Bruce averts his eyes, the feeling that he's intruding that much more pressing.

Of course the Kents insist they stay for dinner. Bruce has gone a lot longer without eating before, but that doesn't mean he isn't _hungry._ The food is good, the kind of hearty home cooking that Bruce expects, and they seem genuinely happy that he's eating with them, even if he's having a hard time making himself join the conversation.

After dinner, he excuses himself out to the porch for some air, leaving the Kents to their conversation. He's not enough of a bastard that he'll just leave Clark there without a word, but the thought at least crosses his mind.

Clark is happy. Bruce no longer needs to be there. Not anymore.

He's surprised when Jonathan Kent joins him out on the porch. He's around the same age as his wife, his short hair gone white with age, his skin the sort of permanent, burned-in tan that every farmer seems to have. He's thinner than Bruce would have expected, lacking Clark's broad shoulders, but there's clearly muscle on his arms, even in his old age.

"Mr. Wayne."

"Please, Bruce is fine," he says automatically. They already know he's Batman—after that, everything else feels like pretense.

"Bruce, then," Jonathan says. Bruce is leaning against the railing, and Jonathan joins him there, staring out over the field in silence for a moment. When Jonathan speaks, his voice is heavy. "I don't think I'll ever be able to find words strong enough to thank you for what you've done for us. Martha and I... we'd pretty much given up hope of ever seeing Clark again. All we had were the photos we took and our memories, and now here he is, live and in the flesh."

"You always knew he was an alien...?"

"Pulled him out of a spaceship when we first found him, so it wasn't like there was much question. We've still got it in the Barn, hidden up in the rafters. Didn't want to throw it away in case someone found it, and it seemed like the kind of thing that might have been important."

If they had, Bruce realizes that none of it would have happened. Clark wouldn't have been taken. Maybe someone else would have, or maybe the poachers would have just left and forgotten about Earth. He keeps that thought to himself though, because there's no reason to burden Mr. Kent with a _what if_ like that.

Not when he's so happy. Not when he just can't stop himself from smiling as he stares out over the farm, his family whole again at last.

"Maybe this is me overstepping my bounds," Jonathan says, his eyes still focused on the fields, "but it seems to me that you're upset."

Bruce wishes he hadn't noticed. He doesn't think there's a way to explain without saying too much or making himself sound like a monster.

"I'm happy he found his family," Bruce says instead, which isn't an answer in the slightest.

"But sad he's leaving?"

It feels like someone's driven a spike through his side, and Bruce wonders at how Jonathan managed to have such pin-point accuracy. How did he know? How did he figure it out so fast? Bruce head only barely turns, but Jonathan's beat him to it, looking over at him as they match postures.

"The way you look at him is pretty obvious, Bruce," Jonathan points out. "You've got _wistful gazing_ down pat. This isn't just a Batman mission to you, because the way you look at him... well, it's pretty much the same way I look at Martha, even if he seems like he's oblivious to it."

It hurts, and Bruce looks away, staring back towards the fields.

"He should stay that way. He'll be happier here."

"That seems like a decision he'd have to make for himself," Jonathan says. "Also seems like the sort of thing you'd have to actually talk to him about."

"You're his parents," Bruce says. "Of course he's going to stay here. You've been apart for... for years and years, and if I had a chance to be with my parents again, nothing would matter as much as them."

Jonathan's hand rests on his shoulder, and Bruce squeezes his eyes shut, wrestling control of himself. He doesn't need the feelings he's having right then. He never needs them.

"I don't see why he should have to choose. Seems like most people are perfectly capable of having more than one friend, or being around their family _and_ someone else. I hear that some people have whole social circles..."

"I live in Gotham," Bruce says. "I can't leave the city, and you can't just relocate a whole farm..."

"I'm going to feel awful for ribbing you like this if you don't, but you _do_ know our boy can fly, right?"

Bruce buries his face in his hands. He hates showing this kind of weakness. He hates how transparent he is. Jonathan's known him for maybe an hour and already knows exactly the sort of person he is: selfish, and desperately wishing he could keep Kal— _Clark_ —for himself.

Clark's spent too much of his life in gilded cages, a prize to be won. Bruce can't keep him any longer.

"Talk to him, Mr. Wayne," Jonathan says. "I'll send him out for you, even. He probably needs some air, and I need to talk to my wife and figure out how we're going to handle things."

He claps Bruce on the shoulder and then withdraws, and the sound of the door shutting behind him sounds almost painfully final in the twilight air.


	19. Chapter 19

Bruce isn't ready for the talk they're going to have, and he's sure it shows in the way he goes tense when Clark joins him on the porch. It's dark outside, the temperature starting to drop, and so far from the city Bruce feels like he can see every star in the sky as he stares up at them.

It feels strange to realize that out there was where it all started. He was out in those stars when he first met Kal.

"My parents said they wanted to talk," Clark says. He sounds breathless, but in a good way. Like he's having such an amazing time he hasn't actually stopped to recover yet. "Are you alright?"

The question seems out of nowhere, and when Bruce glances at him he finds Clark staring at him expectantly, the concern written all over his features.

"Fine."

"Alfred says that any time you say _fine_ it means _no,_ because when you're giving a positive response you tend to provide more detail."

Damn that man.

"I am... alright. This is simply dredging up a lot of less than pleasant memories for me."

"Because of your parents?"

Bruce doesn't like lying to him, but he nods anyway. He doesn't need to burden Clark with his issues. Clark has other things to worry about. Things that aren't whether or not a grown man is feeling sad about what's happening.

"My parents like you already, you know," Clark says. "I'm not sure that's such high praise considering they'd like anyone who brought me back, but I think they really do like you _particularly."_

Bruce nods, but doesn't say anything. Clark moves, and when Bruce turns to look he realizes that Clark has closed the distance between them, his eyebrows furrowed in clear concern as he leans over Bruce.

"You aren't alright at all, are you? This isn't just about your parents."

Bruce opens his mouth to answer and can't find the words. How can he? Everything is so much more complex. If this was one of the Riddler's puzzles or a scheme by the Penguin he'd have no issue, but it isn't. This is _emotions,_ and he's never been half as good at emotions as he is at anything else. He doesn't like them. He thinks it would be a lot easier if he didn't have them at all.

"I—" Clark can't quite seem to find the words, his eyes searching Bruce for an answer he doesn't end up finding. "I thought you'd be happy. We solved the puzzle. If we relocate the transmitter, we can use it to bait them away. We could... well, the _Lanterns_ could arrest them. And then you've solved it."

Bruce's mouth is dry.

He has to say something. He can't just sit there, letting Clark struggle to understand something that can't be understood. He doesn't have all the pieces to the puzzle. He _can't_ know.

But Bruce can't make himself say it, either. He can't make himself say the words that he only accepted recently.

_I care about you. I'm upset because this means you'll leave and I might never see you again. Things will be different between us._

Kal is gone, and Clark's taken his place. A person with a human family. A home. A place to live.

"Bruce?"

Kal looks so worried about him that it's tearing him up inside. He can't just leave him like that. He can't just let him worry when there's nothing he can do.

"I... I will— It's not anything you need to worry about."

"I do," Kal— _Clark_ —says, leaning in. He's in Bruce's space all of a sudden, and his expression of concern would be endearing in any other situation. "You've been acting strange for a while, but never as strange as this."

"I'm a strange person."

Clark scowls at him. "You know that isn't what I mean. Strange for you. I've been living with you long enough to know that this isn't what you're usually like."

He needs to say it. He just needs to say the words. To speak them out loud, to give them life.

It just somehow feels a thousand times more terrifying than any villain he's ever faced.

He doesn't know where he finds the strength, but he does.

"I'm just going to miss you."

It's the lightest, easiest thing to say, and yet it burns coming out. He wants to be happy for Kal. He wants to celebrate what he's found. He just wishes it didn't come at so great a cost. He just wishes it didn't put to an end everything that they had.

To everything that they could have been.

Clark's face scrunches up, and he stares down at Bruce, uncomprehending.

"Miss me?"

Bruce doesn't know how to respond to that. He doesn't know how he's supposed to answer. Of course he's going to miss him. So instead of answering he makes a very ineloquent grunt in a desperate attempt to convey his confusion.

They stare at each other for several long seconds.

"...What?" Clark asks.

"You... will be with your family," Bruce says, his voice strained. "I can't stay here."

"I'm going back with you."

Bruce is uncomprehending. He can't wrap his head around what's being said. He feels like his brain has been soaked with molasses.

"Your family is here," he tries, because that seems like the only thing he could possibly say.

"You— were you just going to leave me here?" Clark asks, and he looks so _betrayed_ that Bruce immediately feels guilty.

"No! Clark... Clark, these are your parents. Your family."

"Kal."

Bruce has to rewind to figure out what he's talking about, and when he does he feels like he understands even less.

"But Clark—"

"Is the name they gave me. But it's... I was a child when I was taken. I'm thirty one years old, Bruce, and I've spend two thirds of that as Kal. Kal is... is who I am."

"It's the name your birth parents gave you," Martha says, and Bruce jerks around to find her standing in the doorway. He supposes it's a testament to how distracted he is that he just let an old woman sneak up on him, because that's exactly what's happened. "That's what they called you. Kal-El. We thought Clark was close enough to make do."

"Did I... did I know that?" Kal asks, scrunching his face up. "Was that just a coincidence...?"

"We told you, so you might have known, even that long ago. Maybe you gave them Kal as your name for some reason."

Jonathan's hovering just behind his wife, and any privacy they might have had is gone. It's probably for the better. Bruce can't figure out what he wants to say. He can't understand the situation at large. He simply doesn't understand why Kal _wouldn't_ want to stay.

How could he not want to be with his parents?

"Did you have a hotel already?" Jonathan asks, and Bruce shakes his head. He doesn't even know where they'd find one. Are they even near a town? He knows they're hours from the nearest city either way.

"You can spend the night," Martha insists. "We have a guest room you can take, and we can talk more in the morning."

Bruce is used to being up all night. He's used to not getting to bed until the sun is starting to rise.

But right then he just feels so _tired_ that he nods and lets Martha handle things. She's all too happy to shoo him into the guest room and make sure he has everything he needs, doting on him like he's a treasured family friend.

That night he lays on the small guest bed and stares at the ceiling of the Kent house and wonders to himself where everything started to go wrong.


	20. Chapter 20

It's almost inevitable that he can't sleep. Even if he _didn't_ have a thousand and one things on his mind, the sounds are all wrong. He can hear the wind blowing up against the side of the house, can hear animals in the distance. He's a city boy, used to city sounds, and the sounds of Kansas are as alien to him as the moon.

He tries, though. He tries to sleep because he knows in the morning he's going to have to talk to people, but no matter how he tries he can't make himself sleep. His mind keeps replaying it, over and over. He doesn't know what to make of it, doesn't know how to process it.

But at the end, there's the constant certainty that he'll be leaving alone the next day.

It's past four when Bruce gives up.

It's easy to dress, and even easier to leave the house as quietly as possible. He's brought very little, but it isn't as if he's going to make a run for it. The car they brought is sitting in the Kent's driveway, but he simply ignores it, stepping off the porch and heading out into the field.

The stars are so beautiful. He doesn't get stars like that back in Gotham, and if he isn't going to sleep anyway, he wants to enjoy them.

He walks to what he figures is the center of the Kent's field and simply tips his head back, staring up at the sky and letting himself get lost in it.

For the first time since he found Kal flying, Bruce stops thinking.

He doesn't know how long he's been out there, standing in a field staring at the stars, when Kal joins him. He doesn't fly, just walks carefully through the field, and it's impossible to miss his approach. Even so, Bruce doesn't turn to look at him, still staring up at the sky.

"The view's better from the barn roof. They used to take me up there at night sometimes, just to look at the stars."

Bruce tears his eyes away from the sky to look to the barn, and decides that Kal's probably right. Lying down on the roof _would_ be the best way to take in the stars, but he's too wary of the whole thing failing under his weight to risk climbing up.

He feels peaceful right then, and getting up seems like a lot of work.

"Everything's... really loud out here," Kal says. "The manor has soundproofing, and it's so much more quiet at night, but out here... I can hear every breath everyone in the house makes."

"So you heard me leaving."

"I was kind of worried you were _leaving, leaving."_

Bruce knows what he means and shakes his head, silent once again.

Kal tips his head back and stares at the stars with him.

Bruce wants it to last forever. He just wants to stay there, staring at the stars, and never leave. He tries to fix the moment in his mind, pure and unchanging, so that he can always remember it, even when they've long ago gone their separate ways.

"Bruce, what did you mean earlier?"

The question comes out of nowhere, but it signals the end of Bruce's star gazing. He drops his eyes, looking at Kal properly for the first time since they arrived at the farm house, and feels a stab of pain just doing that.

"What did I mean by what?"

"By... everything you said yesterday. You... you sort of made it sound like you were going to leave me here."

Bruce doesn't really understand. He's trying to wrap his head around it when Kal suddenly closes the gap between them. Suddenly Kal's right _there,_ standing in his space, looming over him.

Staring down at him with those gorgeous blue eyes of his.

"I'm afraid you're leaving me here."

"But—" Bruce is trying to figure out what to say (and how) and struggling. This was never his area of expertise. He doesn't _do_ this kind of deep emotional conversation. "They're your parents."

"They are my parents, and I want to see more of them. I want to... to catch up on all the things I missed while I was gone. But that doesn't mean I want to stay here."

Bruce's brain is slow and uncomprehending as he stares up at Kal.

"Bruce, I should have done this a long time ago. I meant to... I meant to a few days ago. I went to see that portrait of your parents to make sure I was in a good place for it, but then things came up, and... here we are."

Bruce does not get it.

"I know you have every reason to say no, but... I want to stay with you. I know I could stay here, and you have no responsibility to me now that you've found my family, but... I want to stay with you. I want to help, in any way I can, with... with all the League matters and things like that. With the other Kryptonians."

Ah. He doesn't want to be cut out of the loop. He wants to get to the end, help Bruce track down the people who took him, and get justice both for himself and everyone else who was taken. Bruce understands that.

"But more than that—" Bruce's understanding is already rapidly slipping away. "—I don't want _you_ to leave me behind."

What.

"Bruce, I know I should have been more clear about things to begin with. I know I should have... should have talked to you and told you how I feel. But... I want to stay with you."

Bruce's brain hurts. He doesn't know what to say, and he doesn't really trust himself to say anything at all. Kal's hands reach out, taking Bruce's hand in his own, and clasps them together, and for a moment all Bruce can think about is how warm Kal's hands are.

"I want to stay with you."

Apparently Bruce's uncomprehending stare is enough to tip Kal off that he isn't quite _getting it,_ because after a moment he opts to further clarify.

"I want to be with you. I have... feelings for you."

Bruce probably isn't thinking at all. He doesn't think he's capable. If his brain were a computer it would have just blue screened, trying to process what's being told to him and utterly failing.

"I know this is probably unwelcome, and that you... you didn't expect this when you took me in, but you're the kindest person I've ever met. You could easily have let the Lanterns deal with me, or let the League handle things, but instead you took me in and did everything you could to make my situation better. You went out of your way to improve things for me. To make me comfortable. You constantly put yourself out to help the people around you, and you ask absolutely nothing in return for it. You're content to just... to just spend your life helping people without even getting _recognition_ for what you're doing. Even this... you put everything in your life aside to fly to the middle of nowhere and help me find my parents, and even if your... your _obligation_ is over... I still... I want to stay with you."

It sounds like Kal is confessing to him, but that can't be right. Not when Bruce is the one who should be confessing. Not when Kal is the one who deserves all the praise in the world. Kal, who has every reason to simply lie down and never move again. Kal, who has every reason to abandon hope.

Kal, who never has and never will. Who has more emotional strength and willpower in any given day than the average person will have in their lifetime.

Apparently Bruce's introspection isn't enough for Kal, who looks at him expectantly, eyebrows raised.

"Bruce? I... I know you aren't interested, but..."

"No!" Bruce blurts, his brain _finally_ catching on that he needs to actually say something.

"No?"

"No— I mean, yes. No, I'm not... not interested."

Kal's face is scrunched up, staring at him with utter confusion. He can't follow at all, and Bruce hesitates only a moment before squeezing Kal's hand.

"I was... I was going to confess to you when I went and found you by the portrait."

Unlike Bruce, Kal doesn't need a long explanation. He doesn't need literal minutes to come to terms with things. His face lights up immediately, and he reaches out, literally scooping Bruce up under the armpits and spinning him around.

Bruce never wants to forget the look of delight on Kal's face. He doesn't ever want to lose sight of how happy Kal looks in that moment.

"Sorry," Kal says as he sets him down, which is a surreal experience in itself. Bruce is a big guy, and he is _not_ used to being lifted like he weighs less than a sack of potatoes. "I just... My excitement got the better of me."

"It always should."

Bruce wants to kiss him. He wants to lean up and just kiss him _so bad,_ but Kal's had a lifetime of people not respecting his right to make those decisions, so Bruce makes himself ask.

"I... would like to kiss you."

"I would like you to kiss me," Kal says immediately, his cheeks as red as a tomato and made that much more obvious by the moonlight. "...If you want."

Bruce very much _does_ want. He wants to kiss Kal then and forever. He never wants to stop, so he makes sure he enjoys it as he leans up, pressing his lips to Kal's own.

It's everything he dreamed of and more, and the feeling of Kal's body against his, his arms twining around Kal's waist, is something he feels like he's been waiting a long, long time for.

Bruce doesn't make it a fast kiss. He takes it slow, dragging it out as long as he can until he finally needs to break away just to gasp for much needed air.

"...Does this mean I can stay?" Kal asks, and for a moment Bruce thinks he's serious until he spots a mischievous twinkle in the other man's eye.

"I think Alfred would be upset if you left," Bruce says with a grin of his own. "And that's not even saying how the owner of the house would feel."

Bruce kisses him again. He's never going to get tired of it, never going to get over the way it makes him feel like smiling. The way _Kal_ makes him feel like smiling. Kal, who found his parents but still wants to stay. Kal, who still wants to be a part of his life even when he doesn't have to.

Bruce wants Kal to be a part of his life too.


	21. Chapter 21

Of course just kissing Kal isn't enough to solve all the issues they have. There's still plenty to do, and doing all of it on absolutely zero sleep is what Bruce was _born_ to do.

The following morning, the Kents take them out to the barn and show them the ship that Kal arrived in. It's child's play to confirm that the signal's coming from the ship, and even easier to temporarily disable the signal. He lets Kal stay and talk with his parents while Bruce arranges to have the ship picked up and transported back to Gotham where it can be safely inspected.

Bruce doesn't know what he's going to do with it, but he knows that what he does with it will be important.

As much as Bruce thinks Kal should stay with his parents longer, Kal seems perfectly happy to leave a little bit after lunch. He hasn't slept at all since they arrived, and he falls asleep almost the moment they get in the car, after they say their goodbyes.

The goodbyes, after all, are only temporary. There's no question that Kal will be coming back to visit, but when he returns it will be _far_ more prepared with more than two changes of clothes.

Kal sleeps the whole way back to the airport, and wakes only briefly for Bruce to load him into the plane. He doesn't wake until they're very nearly landing in Gotham, bleary eyed and out of it as they land.

"...Feels like I dreamed it," he mumbles, but doesn't say any more than that.

Alfred's happy to see them home, and seems to know _far_ more about the situation than he should. Kal's first words are a very excited announcement that he confessed, which Alfred meets with a knowing smile and a nod. There's no question that the two of them had an entire conversation about it that he was blissfully oblivious to.

Bruce lets Kal fill in Alfred while he fills in the League, but the moment that's done Alfred's on his case, sending him off to sleep.

When he wakes, Kal is somehow even _more_ excited than he was before. He's full of energy and all too happy to tell Bruce what he's figured out.

"I know how we can get them."

"Get _who?"_

"The traffickers," Kal says. "If they were running around this part of the universe, the Lanterns would have spotted them, so we have to assume that they're only coming in when they need to take people." Bruce is having a hard time focusing on his breakfast, watching as Kal animatedly explains his theory. "I think they follow the beacon in every time, and that lets them find Earth. Then they zip over, grab people, and leave."

It isn't too far off Bruce's own theories, so he nods along in between bites of food.

"So what's your plan?"

"We move the beacon. It doesn't have to move far, but just... nearby. We move the beacon somewhere else, they fly down to investigate, and the Lanterns grab them."

"If the planet is too far off where they're expecting, they'll realize something is up, and it's not like we can drop it on Mars and have it be convincing."

"You're vastly overestimating the intelligence of this kind of smuggler," Kal says. "Most likely it's not the exact same group, just different people _within_ the same group. And the point is that we don't _have_ to trick them. All we need is for them to follow the signal like they always do towards a planet, and then we can get them."

Bruce thinks he's exaggerating the _we_ a whole lot, but the plan is as good as any he's heard.

"I'll run it by the Lanterns."

The Lanterns like the idea even more than he did. Hal seems excited by the whole thing, and promises to get things rolling. When he arrives two days later to pick up the beacon, Bruce has already gone ahead and peeled it out of the ship waiting down in the cave.

Kal clearly wants to go along, but holds back, staying with Bruce back on Earth while the Lantern's handle the work.

Bruce doesn't even find out what happened until almost two full days later, and Kal is _beside_ himself trying to have patience over the whole thing. When he does find out, it's from John, not Hal, who lands discretely in the manor's back yard to deliver the news.

"We got them," are the first words out of his mouth. "We actually caught the ship two days ago. Kal's bait worked, but then we had to follow up... go chasing them across the galaxy to get to their bosses."

"Who you then arrested?" Bruce asks, and John nods.

"Arrested... and rescued their entire stock. Wasn't just Kryptonians and humans they had sitting. There were a lot of different people caught up, and we've had to set up a command center just to get everyone's information in order and make sure they all get home."

"Anyone from Gotham?"

"Two that I found," John says with a small smile. "But we've got their records, and we've got a small army of Lanterns chasing down all those leads. This is the largest bust of this kind we've ever had, and we're making the best of it. We'll be working on this for months, no questions asked."

They celebrate that night over dinner, with drinks and desserts, and four days later, when the first humans arrive back on Earth, Batman is there to greet them as a member of the Justice League.

There to help get them home.

"I wish I could have gone with you," Kal says when he returns that night. "It would have been nice to see them."

"You're connected to Bruce Wayne," Bruce says with a shake of his head. "You can't appear with Batman without giving me away."

"I should have a name then. I should... should be someone. Like Batman, but... me."

Bruce looks him over, giving the idea some thought. Kal has already demonstrated a number of _extremely_ useful powers, and having him along wouldn't be unwelcome.

"I could help people," Kal adds. "I would need to practice how to do it, but... I could help. I _want_ to help."

It's a good idea, even if it's going to take some work. But it's the sort of thing that Bruce is more than happy to invest his time into.

Bruce makes Kal armor that will hide his appearance from the world, and when Kal points out that he doesn't truly _need_ armor, Bruce points out how alarming it would be for him to _not_ have armor, and Kal acquiesces to his point.

He introduces Kal to the League, and it's from Diana that they get their next step.

"Let him be Clark Kent again," she says over lunch one day. "Say that he's regained his memories, let the name Kal fall by the wayside. Clark Kent has a better paper trail. No one will question Clark Kent, but Kal... Kal is a mystery people will investigate."

He talks to Kal that night about the idea, and Kal agrees with a condition.

"I want to still be Kal with you. It's close enough to Clark no one would question it as a name, but I... I still want to be Kal."

"You can be Kal with me," Bruce says, giving him a small smile, and he reaches out, resting his hand over Kal's. "You can always be yourself with me."

Their relationship goes slow. It goes slow because Kal _needs_ it to go slow.

Kal has other people in his life. He has his parents, who he visits regularly (and who come to visit him more than once). He has Alfred, his confidant as much as Bruce's.

But he has others. He meets people, and makes friends even easier than Bruce ever did. People like him. People love him.

Bruce loves him more than anyone. He feels happy in a way that he rarely has a chance to feel when he sees Kal succeeding. The more Kal establishes himself, the more relaxed Bruce allows himself to be.

He's no longer the victim of a terrible fate that Bruce brought back home with him.

Kal has been with him a year to the day when a new hero makes his debut at Batman's side. He doesn't have a name when he first appears, but Bruce uses his contacts to spread it anyway, so that a few weeks in the newspapers are all using it.

 _Rao,_ after the Kryptonian god that Kal heard stories of.

"El—like in my name—means _of the star._ The star of Krypton was Rao, and we were in the Rao system. Rao was also the name of our culture's primary god."

Kal loves the name. He loves joining Bruce at night.

Most of all, he loves helping people.

"You were born to do this," Bruce tells him. His face is smudged with ash from the fire they're standing near. Kal's helped put it out, and Bruce did what was necessary to ensure everyone was evacuated from the building. They've saved lives. They've made a difference.

"I was _trained_ to do this," Kal says with a smile. "I didn't learn how to do this all on my own, you know."

"Doing this is about more than training. Being a hero is... something inside you. A fundamental quality that you have always had, long before I came into your life. The only reason we even met was because you tried to start a slave rebellion, remember?"

Kal smiles at him, but he doesn't say anything else. Instead, he leans down, kissing Bruce right there on the roof, and the joy and elation of having made a different mingles freely with the joy and excitement of having Kal there with him.

Bruce has never been as happy as he is right then.


End file.
